What Happens In Myanmar
by Ashley5627
Summary: Neal and Mozzie take a trip to Burma to steal rubies, but an unforeseen rainstorm wrecks their plans, and their plane. Pre-series. Neal!Whump.
1. This Wasn't On The Itinerary

**I just couldn't help myself, so I decided to post a new story! But I will never give up on my other strories!**

 **Neal had been planning on going to Burma when Mozzie told him about where Kate was during 'Forging Bonds' and he mentions it during 'What Happens In Burma', the tile of which inspired the name of this story. In this story, it explores what could have happened if they did end up going.**

If anyone asked, I'd tell them, straight up, that it was Neal's fault that we had gotten lost in some rainy jungle in the middle of Myanmar, more widely known as its former name, Burma. It wasn't completely the kids fault, but it was the plane that Neal bought that caused us to crash. Okay, so maybe it was mostly the unforeseen rainstorm that brought down the plane, but I always found it easier to place the blame on someone that I could actually see. And since neither Mother Nature nor the shady man that had sold us the plane were with me in this god-forsaken jungle, Neal was the target of my anger.

"This is your fault," I angrily muttered for probably the fifth time.

"It's not completely my fault and you know it," Neal said in a tired tone, his usual response to my accusation, though each time he answered with less and less heat.

"Yeah, but I'm not about to blame this on my expert flying skills."

"'Cause that would be _completely_ off track," Neal muttered sarcastically.

Even though I had taken Neal under my wing and started teaching him the tools of the trade over three years ago, the kid was still young and naïve. When we first met, the kid didn't even look like he could grow facial hair. Now at the ripe old age of twenty-five while I was looking down the barrel of the big 4-0, Neal still had a lot yet to learn about not talking back to his superiors. That still didn't excuse him from being snotty.

I realize that I've gotten a little ahead of myself. You appassionato's for brilliant and imaginative literature probably want to know how this all happened. I suppose that's what happens when I want to vent my anger. Let's go back a few hours...

At first there had been just a few clouds that didn't look _that_ dark, then all of a sudden they were quite ominous as they loomed overhead, bringing with them their aviation-hated friends high winds and pouring rain. It didn't take much for the situation to go straight down the pooper after that.

Mozzie had thought that he was for sure dead when the plane had lost control - _he_ didn't lose control, it disobeyed his orders not to crash - but they had actually survived the landing somehow. Mozzie knew that movies and TV shows portrayed plane crash victims as surviving just fine so the protagonists could be seen traversing through the harsh elements while a few extras were picked off by this or that when they were stupid enough to stray from the pack, but that usually didn't happen in real life when a small bush plane landed in a dense jungle. In short, they were damn lucky they survived the impromptu landing.

The first thing Mozzie did when the plane stopped moving was run his hands over his body to check for gaping wounds. When he didn't find anything other than a few bumps and bruises, he looked to his passenger and partner in crime, Neal. Even though the rain clouds blocked much of the evening sun, Mozzie was still able to make out Neal's admittedly handsome features from the light coming from through the cracked windshield. The young pup was strapped into the seat to Mozzie's right and by all appearances, unconscious.

"Neal!" Mozzie said, his voice possibly an octave higher than normal.

Neal lifted his head with a pained groan and opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his vision. He put a hand to the part of his head that Mozzie couldn't see and to both men's surprise, it came back bloody. "Ow..." he said as he stared at the his bloody hand.

"Neal, are you okay?" Mozzie asked as his eyes darted back and forth from Neal's hand to his face. He was not a fan of the red sticky stuff, especially when it was no longer inside of ones veins.

Neal startled and looked over to Mozzie with a confused expression on his face. "Moz? What happened?" he asked, apparently not able to surmise that they had just been in a plane crash even though it was quite clear. If he had a concussion, Mozzie didn't know what he'd do.

"We were in a plane crash, remember?" Mozzie said slowly and clearly so Neal, in his obviously confused state, understood.

Neal looked out the windshield that had spiderwebbed extensively to see the rainy jungle outside of the aircraft they inhabited. The rest of the plane was surprisingly intact for such a violent, unplanned landing. Again, damn lucky. "Oh, yeah," he said, apparently remembering. It seemed that his confusion had been only temporary, Mozzie noted with palpable relief. Despite his exceptional upper-body strength, he probably wouldn't have been able to carry Neal all the way to safety.

Neal then looked over at Mozzie with a startling amount of concern in his blue eyes. "Are you okay, Moz?"

Mozzie waved off his concerns. "I'm fine, physically," he muttered, then looked over to scrutinize his friends condition. Fortunately he didn't see any gaping wounds on his friend either. "Are you?"

Neal nodded slowly, probably trying to figure out if he actually was okay. "Yeah, I think so... I mean, my head hurts, but otherwise, I'm okay."

Mozzie nodded, then turned back to the matter at hand. The first tentacles of true fear slithered up his spine as he checked the controls of the plane and came to the conclusion that it was dead as the government wanted everyone to believe John F. Kennedy was. He knew that they wouldn't have been able to take off again in a jungle this dense even if the engine was in working condition, but being able to use the radio definitely would have proven useful.

Mozzie tried to breathe deeply and not panic, but this situation seemed like it called for some justified panicking. They were stranded in the middle of a jungle with no contact to the outside world. What the hell were they going to do?!

"Is the radio working?" Neal asked, interrupting Mozzie's imminent panic attack.

"No. We can't call for anyone to come and get us and we can't wait here because no one knows we're out here. We're not even supposed to have been flying at all!" Mozzie said, his voice rising the more he spoke.

"It'll be okay, Mozzie," Neal said in a strangely soothing tone. He then looked back to the cargo area that was mostly devoid of, well, cargo. It was what they had planned on taking _out_ of Myanmar that would have filled the space. Mozzie doubted that they'd have the chance to purloin the rubies now, even if they did make it out of this jungle alive, since their plan had required the now wrecked plane.

Mozzie looked over to Neal when he saw that the younger man was moving. He unbuckled his seatbelt, something that had probably saved them both from doing a header into the windshield, and turned to Mozzie. Mozzie almost cringed it the sight of blood that ran down the right side of Neal's face that seemed to come from a gash that was hidden somewhere in his mop of dark hair. Fortunately Mozzie had been in control of his body's unconscious responses for years now.

"We need to collect everything useful from the plane and start heading for civilization," Neal said, and Mozzie nodded in agreement because that seemed like the most logical thing for them to do, in theory. Which way they'd go, Mozzie did not know.

Mozzie unbuckled his safety harness as well and headed for the emergency kit that the plane had come with while Neal looked through their two small, lightly-packed backpacks. The kit had a useless flare gun, two flashlights - one of which Mozzie tossed to Neal, who, as always, caught it deftly, and used the other to illuminate the bag that he was searching through - a couple of bottles of water, surprisingly, a loaded 9mm Glock and something that might just save them from an unfortunate fate with the indigenous species of the region - a map, one that was sealed in waterproof plastic.

"I got a map!" Mozzie said to Neal in triumph.

Neal looked up from searching their bags. "I thought we already had a map," he said in confusion.

"I have a _waterproof_ map," Mozzie elaborated. The one he had been using to navigate before would no doubt become a useless mess of soggy paper the moment they stepped outside of their temporary shelter. He examined it, but then quickly realized that they had crashed in what was probably the most uninhabited area of all of Myanmar. The closest town was at least a week long walk in this terrain. Maybe they weren't so lucky after all.

Neal came over to where Mozzie was crouched, bringing their bags along with them. "We really don't have much here," he said, looking a little frustrated. "Just the clothes on our backs since this journey was only supposed to have been a few hours long, bride money that's pretty useless in the middle of the jungle, the celebratory bottle of champagne you insisted on bringing, very little food. I'd estimate it'll last us only three days, if we ration it carefully," Neal said, and all Mozzie heard was their chances of survival shriveling up more and more by the second.

"We don't have enough food to wait this storm out. We have to go now while there's still some light," Neal continued as he looked out the side door's small window to the almost monsoon-like rain that was coming down outside.

"Which way would we even go, Neal? East until we reach the Chinese border? If you haven't noticed before, we're in the middle of nowhere!" Mozzie said, totally _not_ freaking out. They were way too far north of Mandalay, Myanmar's second largest city, to attempt to find salvation there and the mine they had planned on liberating from was just about as far.

"Give me the map," Neal requested, his hand stretched out before him, but Mozzie didn't hand it to him.

"There's no nearby town that will suddenly appear when you look at it, Neal!" Mozzie said a little loudly, his hands and the map flailing about. He looked out the window in despair as the severity of the situation hit him full-force. "Oh, God. We're going to die. I'm too young to die, Neal!"

"We're not going to die," Neal said, his voice conveying that he thought Mozzie was being just a little overdramatic.

"You're right, we're going to get kidnapped by a native tribe an-and they'll cook us then feast on our entrails! And you know those long neck ring things freak me out," Mozzie said as he suppressed a shutter at the thought of those metal rings around the tribeswoman's necks. Why they thought they needed their necks to any longer than they already were, Mozzie would never know.

"You know, that option still has us dying," Neal unhelpfully pointed out.

"See, I told you we're going to die," Mozzie responded.

"The tribes of Myanmar aren't even cannibalistic," Neal said with clear exasperation in his voice.

"They may not dine on tourists, but who would miss two lost travelers like us? How else do you think that they have kept their filthy little secret this long? It would look suspicious if the people that visited them suddenly disappeared right around dinner time."

"Okay, I think you've just reached a new level of paranoia," Neal said with a hint of real concern as he shook his head.

"Sometimes paranoia is just having all of the facts," Mozzie quoted with a finger in the air.

Neal had started reaching for the map again, but stopped to look quizzically at Mozzie. "Who said that?" asked the young, naïve man after a moment of thought.

"William S. Burrough. You still need to read more," Mozzie told his young friend.

"I don't read about paranoia. I hear plenty of it from you," Neal retorted, obviously just annoyed at the situation and not at Mozzie. He looked back down at the map. "Can I please just see the map?"

"Fine, but you won't find anything I haven't seen." Mozzie gave his new-found map to Neal. Neal laid it on the non-level floor, flattened it out and shined his flashlight on it.

"Where are we now?" Neal asked Mozzie, who had been the navigator before things had gone south.

Mozzie pointed at the map. "About here. Too far away to try to continue to the mine, or anywhere else for that matter."

Neal studied the map for a moment, then pointed at a spot that looked like the rest of the desolate wilderness that surrounded them. "Our best bet is to go here. It's a small town - just a few people that choose life off the grid. There's a guy there, ex-Air Force, and he has a helicopter. He's not supposed to have it and he doesn't use it, but with the money we have, he'll probably loan it out to us."

"How did you know about that?" Mozzie questioned. Even _he_ didn't know about that and he knew everything about where they were going. Knowing your mark didn't apply to only people, after all.

"I had to do something to keep my mind preoccupied," Neal said a little shyly, and Mozzie resisted the urge to sigh. His young, intelligent mind had been preoccupied with the young damsel by the name of Kate that came between them and their big score a few years ago and he never really got over her when she disappeared. The heartbroken kid had yet to learn how to let go, something Mozzie feared he'd never be able to teach the young, hopeless romantic.

Mozzie squinted at the spot Neal had pointed at. "How far way is that?" Mozzie asked, though he was already running the numbers in his head.

Neal shrugged. "Five days walk. In this weather, maybe more," he guessed, his calculations lining up with Mozzie's.

Mozzie sat back on his haunches. "We don't have enough food for that long of a journey," he said worryingly.

"Yeah, but we can't just sit here and wait for death either," Neal pointed out, his voice grim.

Mozzie sighed, not liking their odds at all. If he were playing poker, he would have folded right around the time their plane fell out of the sky. Much like Kenny Rodgers, he knew when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. Unfortunately there was no folding in life.

"Okay, we'd better get going if we want to use the remaining light," he said resignedly.

Neal, getting the proverbial green light to start their perilous journey, quickly took everything out of one of their two backpacks and put it in the other one, then did the same with the emergency kit, save for the map since Mozzie had snatched it up from the floor already. He paused when he found the gun. He held it distastefully as he looked at Mozzie, asking the wise man a silent question with a raised eyebrow.

"We should probably bring it, just in case my cannibal theory is proved right," Mozzie said, answering the unasked question.

Neal didn't disagree, putting the gun in with everything else, checking that the safety was on first. He then slung the straps over his shoulders, letting the bag rest on his back. The backpack was small and not too much was in it, so carrying it shouldn't slow Neal down too much. Besides, the kid was young and limber.

Judging by the loud thrumming of the rain hitting the metal roof of the plane, the storm had not let up in the least. Just wonderful.

Mozzie, having donned his standard aviation outfit that consisted of a brown leather coat with an inner layer of warm faux fox fur, thick darker brown pants and classic aviator hat with matching goggles, was bound to fare better in the damp weather and pokey brush than Neal, who did not plan for such conditions either. It was only serendipitous that Mozzie had chosen such weather-worthy apparel.

Unfortunately for Neal, cargo pants of khaki coloring and an off-white short-sleeved button-down shirt that had pockets on either side of the row of buttons were not the desired attire for traipsing through a wet and highly vegetative jungle. Fortunately both men had opted for boots that were optimal for hiking, of which, it appeared, they'd be doing a lot of in the near future.

Being as they were in one of the many mountainous regions of Myanmar and since it happened to be the middle of December, the air was not the usual balmy temperature of most tropical jungles. The fact that it was quickly turning night and pouring out was not helpful either. Neal was going to end up being colder, more scratched up and much wetter than Mozzie. And while the older man sympathized for him, there was nothing he could do to help his friend at the moment.

Once the pair left the relative safety of the small aircraft, they were soaked in seconds by the pouring rain, though Mozzie's jacket saved him from getting completely drenched, unlike Neal, who had no such protection.

Mozzie squinted as he looked around, wondering how many eyes were on them at the moment. Poisonous snakes, giant, man-eating jungle cats that were out there just waiting for their next meal to wander past them and crazy, long-necked cannibalistic jungle dwellers were just a few things that could leap out and kill them in seconds in the depths of this jungle. And if the wild creatures of this desolate wilderness for some improbable reason didn't kill them, starvation or treacherous falls from deadly heights surely would. Their chances were not great at the moment, Mozzie surmised grimly.

The vegetation around them looked a lot like what the island from Lost had looked like. Mozzie was pretty sure that they had recorded that show in Hawaii. Not exactly Myanmar, but close enough. He really hoped that they didn't run into any polar bears, smoke monsters or 'The Others' while stumbling around this place. With their current luck, it was quite possible.

It really was Neal's fault that they were in this situation to begin with. If the smitten kid hadn't been strutting around and showing off his feathers like the peacock he was in a foolish attempt to win Kate back, then he wouldn't have even suggested going to Myanmar to steal giant rubies. Okay, Mozzie was all in when he mentioned the size of the 'pigeon bloods,' as the locals called them. But still, Kate had always been the beautiful wedge that came between them and Mozzie was more than willing to blame her even though she wasn't around to yell at. Her and Mother Nature were to blame for this. Perhaps they were one and the same. That particular femme fatale had always been a bit of a whirlwind.

Neal had yet to learn to let go of 'the one that got away' and Mozzie really didn't know what else to do but help the kid in his foolish conquest. Who would get his butt out of trouble if not him? Mozzie wouldn't have been able to bear hearing that Neal had gotten caught or even killed during a heist because the kid had grown on him, darn-it! It was his natural charm that had gotten Mozzie, he was sure. That kid oozed of it. No one was invulnerable to that friendly smile and that hint of vulnerability and pain that he sometimes showed that made Mozzie want to teach him how to never be hurt by the Kate's of the world ever again. Mozzie was just going to have to stick with him, even when he made bad decisions like buying defective planes from shady salesmen.

Mozzie, having always made an effort to be prepared, brought a compass with them. He quickly surmised that they needed to head west to reach the small settlement that Neal had pointed out.

"Which way?" Neal shouted over the pouring rain and high winds as he looked over Mozzie shoulder to see the navigation devices.

Mozzie lifted his heavily-ringed right hand and pointed to their left. "We are westward bound."

Neal sighed, readjusted the straps on his shoulders, and started walking the direction that Mozzie indicated. Mozzie followed behind his friend, hoping that they'd survive this misadventure.

 **Well, what do you think so far? I really love writing Mozzie and I hope I got him right!**


	2. Karma's Not A Nice Lady

**I've been having some more inspiration troubles again, so I haven't been putting as much stuff out as I've been wanting to. Oh well.**

Neal, being the more athletic and younger of the two, had little trouble with the lush overgrowth surrounding them. Mozzie, on the other hand, struggled to find his footing on the uneven and wet ground below them. Fortunately, Neal stayed by his side for the most part to help him over some of the more difficult obstacles, like the friend Mozzie knew he was.

Mozzie opted to turn off his flashlight to conserve its battery life while Neal just used his. The small amount of light that made it past the thick clouds above was quickly fading and soon they'd be shrouded in a darkness that could hide any form of creature.

The dense green canopy of trees above them kept some of the rain from falling on them, but there wasn't a moment they weren't soaked. "You know, this is all your fault," Mozzie said about twenty minutes into their drenched walk. The rain was still coming down hard and he nearly had to shout for Neal to be able to hear him.

Neal, who was walking a few feet ahead of Mozzie at the moment, turned briefly to shoot Mozzie a confused glance. The blood on Neal's face from his head wound had long been washed away from the never ending rain. At least one good thing came from this bothersome precipitation, Mozzie supposed. "How is it _my_ fault? I don't remember summoning this rain," he said, obviously not remembering his small but crucial error.

" _You_ were the one that bought the plane that crashed," Mozzie accused with a point of his finger that Neal didn't see.

"You were flying the plane!" Neal shot back, being completely unfair.

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't completely your fault," Mozzie allowed.

"Let's go with _not at all_ my fault," Neal countered.

"Let's not get carried away..."

Since Neal had self-elected himself as the leader, he held the flashlight so he could shine it on the terrain under them. The beam of light fell upon a fallen tree that was in their path. Neal stepped over it, then reached out to help Mozzie over the obstacle, but stopped and winced, then tried to hide it.

Mozzie, always the observant one, easily saw it and became concerned. "What's wrong? Were you bit by a snake? Am I going to have to suck the venom out of the wound?" Mozzie asked in a slight panic, almost shuttering at the thought. The things that he'd do for Neal...

"No, I wasn't bit by a snake," Neal said, clearly exasperated by Mozzie's concern. He hesitated before continuing. "I think I may have hurt my ribs from the crash."

"And you've known this whole time?" Mozzie asked, though he wasn't too surprised. Neal, for some inane reason, had always tried to conceal his injuries, no matter how severe. Once after they narrowly escaped a heist gone wrong, Neal failed to inform Mozzie about the ' _minor_ ' stab wound he had gotten from a nasty knife that the man that owned quite the impressive art collection had used to fend off the intruders until they were back at their safe house. It turned out to be more of a deep cut that just bled _way_ too much than a life-threatening wound, but the kid should have told him sooner! He had nearly given him a heart attack when he started dripping blood all over the floor.

"There isn't much we can do in the middle of this jungle," Neal told Mozzie as he helped him over the log.

"Can I at least see it so I know for sure that you're not going to drop dead on me?" Mozzie asked, not letting Neal just brush it off as nothing just in case it _was_ something. Sometimes the kid didn't have the best judgment, especially when it concerned his own health.

Neal sighed, but relented by lifting his soaked shirt to reveal an angry red seatbelt-shaped bruise that started on his left shoulder, continued over his muscular chest and stopped on the right side of his washboard abs. Water rained down on the two them and ran in rivulets down the smooth planes of Neal's Adonis-esque body. If Mozzie was a woman or swung that way, he'd be drooling at the sight.

"Ouch," Mozzie said in sympathy as he examined the contusion. The seatbelt that Mozzie had had on didn't do that much damage, but Mozzie had the controls to hold onto as they crashed. It must have helped to brace himself instead of letting the seatbelt take all of his weight like Neal's had.

"Yeah, that's about how it feels," Neal muttered as he put his shirt back into place.

"Is anything broken?" Mozzie asked. Though he never liked using his abilities, Mozzie was quite adept at cleaning and patching up wounds. Having Neal in his life had furthered his skills to the point that he could easily pass as a doctor if the need should arise for a con. Though possessing the same grace of a feline or gazelle, Neal had over his fair share of accidents and close calls. Mozzie would have blamed his young friend's stress-inducing injuries for his hair loss if he hadn't been already quite follicly challenged when they'd met.

Neal shook his head. "No, just hurts when I move my shoulder."

"Good. I mean, not _good_ , just not as bad as it could have been," Mozzie said, trying not to sound like he was happy about Neal being hurt.

Neal, being one of the few that truly understood his less than typical ways, nodded in understanding, then led the way towards their far-off destination. Mozzie proceeded to tell Neal that it was his fault a couple more times over the next few hours of traversing, with Neal responding with less heat each time, and quite possibly more annoyance. Eventually they became too tired to talk, so their walk turned quiet while they focused on the mud and foliage-covered path ahead of them.

They continued for a while longer until Mozzie stopped and sat heavily against a nearby fallen tree. Darkness had completely fallen upon them by now, the only existing light coming from the flashlight Neal held and the meager amount of moonlight that made it past the thick clouds above them. "Let's stop...for a minute," Mozzie suggested breathlessly, too tired to carry on even if Neal said no.

Thankfully, the younger man stopped as well, though he just leaned against a neighboring tree instead of sitting. "We're going to have to stop for the rest of the night," Neal said, panting almost as much as Mozzie. They had been walking for hours and there wasn't much of a point in traveling in the darkness and using up the flashlights battery anymore than they already had. They had many days of walking ahead of them, so it was best for them to conserve both their energy as well as the meager resources at their disposal as best as they could.

Mozzie just nodded, too exhausted to jump for joy or show his delight in any other way. It had to have been the best idea Neal had had all day.

They rested for a few minutes, letting the heavens refill their bottles the natural way, then Neal, never one to stand still for long, pushed off of the tree and started wandering towards a large rock wall to their right. Mozzie let him go, knowing that he couldn't get in too much trouble in the middle of nowhere, at least he hoped.

"Hey, there's a cave over here," Neal called after a minute, his voice nearly drowned out by the constant downpour.

Reluctantly, Mozzie left his resting spot and walked over to where Neal was standing and peered into the cavernous hole that Neal had, quite proudly, found. Neal took a step forward, but Mozzie held his arm in front of the impulsive young man to stop him. "Do you really think that going in there would be a good idea, Neal?" Mozzie asked doubtfully as he looked for possible cave dwellers within the cavernous opening.

"It's probably a lot dryer in there," Neal pointed out, scowling at the wetness around them.

"Yes, but it's probably the home of some ravenous creature that could eat you it one bite, then come after me," Mozzie said as he moved his hands about.

"Won't know 'til you try," Neal said, being far too impulsive again. The kid would really have to get that under control if he wanted to last much longer.

"Famous last words," Mozzie told Neal, who took a step toward the dark entrance.

"Yeah, be sure to put that on my headstone," Neal shot over his shoulder.

"That's not funny," Mozzie said, then reluctantly followed Neal when he realized that he'd be out here alone. "Wait, don't leave me out here."

Neal turned his head and laughed a little, far too amused. "Now you want to come?"

"Well, I'm not staying out there alone," Mozzie said, though it was obvious.

Neal shined the beam of his flashlight around to light the dark corners of the cave up. Just as Neal had predicted, the cave seemed quite a bit dryer than outside, though it wasn't much of a competition since the Pacific Ocean was almost dryer.

To their right, stalactites hung from the ceiling of the cave like ice sickles while stalagmites grew from the ground just below them. There were no creatures lurking in the shadows as far as Mozzie could tell, but one could never be too careful.

Now that they were out of the rain, Neal chose to take off his shirt to wring out the excess water, then put it back on after he deemed enough water had been squeezed out. Mozzie thought of doing the same, but his jacket had actually kept the shirt underneath it pretty dry.

Mozzie had to admit, it was nice to be out of the chilly rain for the first time in hours. It was much quieter as well, neither of them needing to nearly shout to be able to be heard by the other.

"This should work," Neal said, then sat down on the hard, rocky ground. He then patted the ground next to him, inviting Mozzie to sit with him.

Mozzie, with some reluctance, sat down as well. He then looked around the space a little more. It wasn't a very large cave, more like an alcove, and probably only twenty square feet by Mozzie's estimate, but it was enough for the both of them to lie down and be able to be completely inside the natural shelter.

Neal then proved so by dropping the backpack next to him and carelessly laying down on the hard surface of the cave, putting his arm under his head to cushion it. He then turned off the flashlight, plunging the small cave into near darkness that was only interrupted by the moonlight that barely made its way past the thick clouds and dense treetops outside. His eyes closed almost immediately, but Mozzie did not feel safe enough to do so as well.

"Shouldn't someone keep watch?" Mozzie asked as he glanced worryingly around the darkness.

"For what?" Neal mumbled without opening his eyes, acting like the naïve man that he sometimes was.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe man-eating jungle cats, or whatever inhabits this cave. And you can't forget about the cannibalistic jungle dwellers," Mozzie said as he shifted nervously.

Neal opened his eyes to stare up at Mozzie, his startlingly blue orbs almost glowing in the darkness. "Oh, I'd _never_ ," he said in mock-seriousness.

"Fine, but don't blame me when we wake up to our death," Mozzie said in a fake-careless voice.

"I'll be sure not to," Neal said as he closed his eyes again.

After watching for creatures of the night for a few minutes, Mozzie realized that he was too tired to keep watch. He warily laid down next to Neal and closed his eyes. Despite the uncomfortable surface in which they were laying on, Mozzie succumb to his need for rest quickly.

 **I know this was on the shorter side, but what I have in store for the partners in crime needs its own chapter! ;-p**

 **Reviews make me smile!**


	3. A Path Less Traveled

**Thanks for the kind words, guys! I have so much fun writing Mozzie, so I'm really enjoying this story! Now, here is the Neal whump I promised!**

Surprisingly, Mozzie slept for quite a while after finally falling asleep. His exhaustion from traipsing through the jungle obviously wore him out to the point of not waking up to every ominous sound, something he had trained himself to do many years prior. He hadn't survived this long on luck alone, which was what Neal seemed to be trying to do. That and the constant help and support from his loyal friend and partner in crime. The latter, of course, was invaluable to his survival.

Mozzie opened his eyes to see the morning sun shine through the tree tops and light the edge of the cave and their muddy boots. He smiled when his sleep-muddled mind caught up to the fact that it was no longer raining. _It was about darn time!_ They might have needed to start worrying about flooding if it had continued much longer.

Neal was still asleep, Mozzie realized as he felt a weight on his chest. He had curled up very close to Mozzie some time in the night, his hand actually resting on Mozzie's chest. It was quite awkward, especially since Mozzie was not the touchy-feely type.

Mozzie started scooting away from Neal as carefully as he could, but before he got very far, Neal stretched and managed to get even closer to Mozzie. Now his head was also on Mozzie's chest, his breath warm on Mozzie's neck.

"Uh, Neal," Mozzie whispered, not sure what else to do. All Neal did in response was continue to sleep on, oblivious to his friends slight distress. "Neal," he repeated, louder this time.

Neal finally opened his blue eyes and blinked sleepily up at Mozzie until he realized what he was using as a pillow. He startled slightly, then sat up, raking a hand through his curly brown locks that were uncharacteristically messy in a slightly sheepish manner. Being as his appearance meant a lot to him, the kid would not be happy if he looked in a mirror right then.

"Guess I got cold in the night..." Neal said a little self-consciously. The younger man didn't have the warm coat that Mozzie was wearing, so he had no doubt been colder than himself through the night.

Mozzie sat up as well, nodding a little awkwardly. "Yeah, yeah. Uh, me too."

Neal nodded, then looked out the opening of their shelter. "Hey, it stopped raining," he pointed out.

"Yeah, finally," Mozzie muttered, more than a little annoyed with Mother Nature by now.

Neal dug into the backpack and pulled out two granola bars. "We can each eat a granola bar now, then have some of the trail mix I brought later today," he said as he handed one bar to Mozzie, then unwrapped and started eating his own.

"When do we get to drink the champagne?" Mozzie asked Neal, who had somehow became their food rationer at some point, as he took small bites of their meager breakfast.

"I don't think we have anything to celebrate right now, Moz," Neal said around a bite of chewy granola, his voice wryly.

"We survived the night in this endless wilderness. I think that is more than enough reason to pop the cork," Mozzie pointed out, his reasoning more than fair.

"I think we should stay sober for the time being," Neal said, making it sound like he had a perfectly valid point instead of being a bit of a stick in the mud.

"Fine, but we're drinking at some point. I spent a hundred dollars on that baby and I want a return on my investment," Mozzie said, standing his ground.

"How about when we make it out of this place? We can celebrate then," Neal offered, his lips curling into a smirk.

Mozzie nodded his acceptance. "I accept your counter-offer," he said, then finished eating his granola bar. Neal finished his as well and then they were off again. It was easier to traverse through the jungle now that the rain had stopped and the sun was out, but the ground was still muddy and thick with foliage as well as a bit mountainous.

Another thing that came out of the new day was that the indigenous species were free to roam their territory, making obnoxious noises that could wake up the dead while they were at it. Birds, insects and every other manner of creature called for their mates or allies, making the most intolerable sounds as they did so.

Mozzie was sure to keep an eye out, but besides a few birds and a suspicious looking monkey that seemed to have been eying them for a few miles, he didn't see anything that could harm them. They were out there, Mozzie knew, they just hadn't shown themselves yet. Mozzie just hoped that they'd make it to the little settlement before they ran into any hungry, vicious creatures. Neither Neal nor Mozzie would be able to win in a foot race against any creature, especially since they were on the animals home turf, giving them the advantage.

Neal, with a lot of help from Mozzie's excellent directional skills, led them through the jungle for a few more long hours. Eventually they came to a narrow and unreliable looking path that was bracketed with a precipitous rocky slope of about fifty harrowing feet to their left and a steep and rigid rock wall to their right. Mozzie remembered a much safer way they could go if they backtracked about a mile. They'd lose some time, but they wouldn't lose their lives, which was what it looked like they'd lose if they continued on this path.

Neal, seeming to think that continuing wouldn't get them killed, kept walking forward. Rocks shifted under his feet, but he just continued to forge ahead.

"Why do we have to go this way? Wouldn't it be safer if we backtracked a bit? I'm pretty sure there's a safer way about a mile back..." Mozzie said, staying on the solid ground instead of following Neal in his foolish and dangerous endeavor.

"It'll be faster this way. Come on," Neal's said, beckoning Mozzie to follow.

With even more reluctance than he'd had when entering the cave, Mozzie stepped forward, willing to take a leap of faith for Neal. Neal was waiting for him, holding out a steadying hand. Mozzie took it while holding onto the rocks to their right as Neal did the same.

They took their time, finding good handholds on the rocks while Mozzie was studiously not looking down. He wasn't by any means acrophobic, but being this close to a deadly fall made him a tad worried for his life and gazing down at his possible demise did not help his anxiety.

They were making it just fine long enough for Mozzie to start to relax minutely, his mind foolishly thinking that nothing terrible would happen in a situation doomed to end in disaster. That was the point when things went, quite literally, downhill.

It was almost ironic that it was Neal - the young and agile one - who lost his footing. Of course, since most of the ground under Neal crumbled and started to fall, it was only because Neal was in front did he cause the small but dangerous rockslide.

Neal lost his grip on the wall and Mozzie tried to hold onto Neal's other hand as he started to tumble over the edge, but gravity then reared its ugly head and Neal started taking Mozzie over with him. Looking Mozzie in the eye with never before seen seriousness and quite possibly an unspoken apology, the kid had the nerve to _let go_ of Mozzie's hand, ruining his only chance at avoiding the disastrous fall.

Yes, Mozzie probably would have fallen as well if Neal hadn't done that, but still! You don't let go of your lifeline when you're about to face a harmful and possibly - please, _please_ don't be - fatal drop. Mozzie obviously still had a lot to teach Neal about self-preservation as well as common sense since he seemed to be severely lacking in both areas.

"Neal!" Mozzie shouted uselessly as the self-sacrificing idiot stumbled and rolled down the hill until he came to a sudden and sickening stop at the bottom of the cliff Mozzie stood on.

Mozzie, wanting to get to his friend as fast as possible, frantically looked for a way down. He quickly came to the conclusion that the rocky hill was far too steep for him to be able to get down without hurting himself as well in the process. No matter how badly Mozzie wanted to get to his friend, he refused to be the Jack to Neal's Jill by foolishly tumbling after him and sustaining injuries as well. Mozzie prayed to any and all deities that were currently listening that Neal had not broken his crown during his descent.

Mozzie then dared to look at where Neal had landed, a strange, nearly painful feeling settling deep within his gut. Neal was on his side facing away from Mozzie and had yet to move. His once light colored clothes were now covered in mud and ripped in places, but Mozzie couldn't see any injuries from this distance. "Neal!" Mozzie yelled again, terrified that the worse had happened.

Finally, after a few tense seconds that seemed to last forever, Neal stirred, his hands fisting as the pain most likely registered. "Moz?" he questioned, his voice almost too quiet for Mozzie to hear from where he was.

"Neal, are you okay?" Mozzie asked, terrified of the answer. There was no way that Neal could have survived that fall without sustaining some sort of injury, but Mozzie just couldn't see how badly Neal actually was hurt.

Neal seemed to think of that for a minute, then answered with a slightly dazed, "Uh, yeah. I think so."

"You _think_ so? How do you _think_ so? Either you're _hurt_ or you're _not_ ," Mozzie said, trying his best not to reflect his fear as anger, and failing miserably. Why did this kid always have to get into trouble, gosh darn it!? That strange concerned feeling always welled up when Neal got hurt, and Mozzie was a little terrified that it might just be something related to parental instincts that he didn't even think he possessed.

Neal turned onto his back, the movement making him wince deeply, and glared at Mozzie. "Yeah, I'm hurt, Moz. How do you expect someone to feel after falling fifty feet?" Now that Neal was facing him, Mozzie could see a few cuts on Neal's face and the subsequent blood that was grotesquely oozing out of them. None of them looked life-threatening, but made Mozzie all the more nervous for his friends health.

"Where are you hurt?" Mozzie asked, ignoring Neal's question being as it was most likely rhetorical.

Neal let his head fall back onto the ground and closed his eyes, his fight having left him. "Everywhere," he muttered grumpily. Mozzie's young friend never did well with pain, and Mozzie never did well with people in pain or the feelings that the position invoked. In summary, this was not a good situation for either of them.

Mozzie watched raptly as Neal carefully pulled his right arm against his chest, not seeming to want to look at it, with good reason, it seemed. Even from this distance, Mozzie could now see that it was not a pretty sight. Mozzie had seen a few broken bones in his time, so he could tell by the strange looking lump near the middle of Neal's right forearm that at least one of the bones within had snapped sometime during Neal's unplanned descent. The position of his shoulder on the same side of the break looked peculiar as well and Mozzie had a sinking suspicion that it was dislocated.

"I can't get down from here, Neal. I'm going to have to go around!" Mozzie yelled down to Neal.

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere," Neal answered, not bothering to open his eyes.

Not wanting to leave Neal, but needing to get closer to him, Mozzie took off in the direction they had come - the direction they _should_ have gone after seeing the precarious path that could have easily cost either - or both - of them their lives. Neal was _definitely_ going to get an earful once Mozzie deemed him lecture-ready.

Mozzie tripped twice during his mad dash to Neal. He wasn't really looking down much and it didn't help that he never held the grace Neal did, who almost seemed part feline at times. By the time Mozzie made it to the bottom of the hill, Neal had sat up but hadn't moved to stand.

Neal opened his eyes when he heard Mozzie approach. Those two cerulean blue orbs were far too pained for Mozzie's liking. The wounded man on the ground tried to smile in greeting as well as a way to ease Mozzie's nerves, but it came out as a wince and did nothing to calm him.

Mozzie crouched next to Neal and immediately started assessing his friends injuries. As he suspected, both of the bones of Neal's right forearm were broken - not a compound fracture, thank goodness - and the shoulder on the same side was definitely dislocated. That was going to hurt like the dickens being put back in place. Other than that, it seemed that a rib or two had been broken by the fall - Neal complained very vocally about that when Mozzie palpated the area so he couldn't get a clear number. Besides that, quite a few contusions and relatively minor lacerations were sustained, but it seemed Neal was going to live. And he was definitely lecture-ready.

"Only _you_ ," Mozzie started, shaking his head in exasperation while feeling a huge wave of relief sweep over him. "Only _you_ could fall from a height like that and not break your neck."

"Sorry if I don't consider myself too lucky right now," Neal said in a pained voice as he reluctantly moved his right arm away from his body so Mozzie could play doctor before Neal's shoulder became even more swollen.

It wasn't the first time Neal had dislocated his shoulder, and not the first time Mozzie had to put it back in place, so both men knew what to do. It didn't make the process much easier or less painful though. A little rotating, a lot of gasping and stifled screams, a hard tug, then _pop_ , as good as new. Well, not quite. A few weeks of pain and limited movement and it should be better. Of course, since they were currently in the middle of a jungle, Neal would not have a proper sling or splint to immobilize the appendage. Having a broken arm complicated matters even more, since Neal could never do things halfway.

With a sudden stroke of genius, Mozzie reached down, unbuckled his black leather belt and pulled it through the loops in one swift movement. Mozzie had Neal hold his wounded arm against his chest while he put the belt under said arm, then over the opposite shoulder and hooked the belt together so his arm stayed in place. It wasn't the most ideal of slings, but it was the best that they could do in the middle of nowhere.

"Thanks," Neal said, looking at the makeshift sling.

"Just call me MacGyver," Mozzie said with a clear note of pride.

Neal shook his head. "I don't think I could call you that without cracking up," he responded, smiling past the pain.

Mozzie shrugged. "Fine, don't acknowledge my talents," he said dismissively, then looked Neal up and down again. "Are you ready to go?" he asked, not sure how able Neal was to traverse through the jungle now.

Neal winced a little, but nodded. "Yeah," he said, never one to let a minor snag like a fifty foot fall stop him from forging onward.

Mozzie pushed away his slight aversion to touch by aiding his fallen friend to his feet. Neal having a useless arm was going to slow them down considerably, but Mozzie didn't for even a second think to leave Neal. He would have made it to safety faster, but he never would have been able to leave Neal to the dangerous creatures that roamed this jungle. No, Neal was stuck with him and he was stuck with Neal. It was how a friendship worked, even their slightly unusual one.

"I'd tell you I told you so, but I'm not a man to kick someone while he's down," Mozzie said matter-a-factly as he picked up the backpack that had landed a few feet away from where Neal had. Against all odds, neither the backpack nor its contents had been damaged by the fall. Mozzie took the burden of carrying it since Neal was now wounded. Neal made no comment on it, though he did shoot Mozzie a thankful glance.

"Next time, I'll listen to you when you say to turn around, okay?" Neal said, sounding like it was a little difficult to admit that he was wrong.

Mozzie nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. "It seems that you have finally caught onto the fact that my wisdom is endless and essential to our survival," he said, feeling justifiably smug.

Neal rolled his eyes, but did not disagree with what Mozzie said. Mozzie counted it as a win.

Now at the bottom of the cliff, Neal and Mozzie set off on the overgrown path Mozzie had suggested for them to go before Neal had taken a header off of the aforementioned cliff.

"You know you're an idiot, right?" Mozzie asked after a few minutes of silent walking.

Neal shot Mozzie a questioning look, silently asking to elaborate. The foliage was currently letting them walk side-by-side, which made for easier communicating.

"You let go of my hand!" Mozzie all but yelled, spreading his arms wide enough that he almost hit Neal in the face.

"I would have taken you over as well, Moz. I took a calculated risk and it payed off," Neal said simply, like he was talking about a risky move by sacrificing an expendable pawn during a chess game and not a real near-death experience that still left him injured.

Another thing about Neal was he always played down his injuries, no matter how severe they truly were. He had once acted like a bullet graze was just a paper cut and told Mozzie that he was just fine while trying not to throw up from the pain of Mozzie trying to stitch his skin back together. It made no sense to Mozzie, but neither did letting go of ones lifeline.

"It didn't pay off, Neal. If you haven't noticed, you didn't walk away unscathed," Mozzie said as he gestured at Neal's injured arm.

"We're both still alive, aren't we?" Neal asked, eyebrows raised in questioning as a smirk played on his lips.

Mozzie didn't dignify Neal's ridiculous question with an answer. "I could have pulled you up. I'm quite deceptively strong, you know," Mozzie said, knowing that his chances of actually pulling Neal back up still had been slim at best.

"I'm sure you are, Moz, but I still would have taken you over with me and I couldn't allow that. It was my fault that we even went that way," Neal said in all seriousness, looking Mozzie straight in the eye, and Mozzie let it go, for now.

Despite the crisp temperature, Neal sweated profusely during their trek. The pain he was obviously in wasn't verbally declared, but the signs were clear as an amateur Degas forgery to Mozzie. The way he lagged behind more than not as well as the tightness of his facial muscles and the way his jaw was set told Mozzie that Neal was having much more trouble than he was letting on, which didn't surprise Mozzie in the least. The young pup never was one to show weakness, even to his partner in crime.

Before, Neal was the one to help Mozzie through the thick foliage, now Mozzie held out a steadying hand when his friend needed it. Mozzie had them stop more often than they had before, not wanting to push Neal past the limits that the stubborn young man would go to without a word.

Food was the most concerning thing at the moment for them. Mozzie was on the lookout for local fruits or plants that were edible, but so far he hadn't spotted anything that he recognized. He was by no means an expert in the local vegetation, but he did know of some of them.

Darkness approached faster than Mozzie anticipated, the high peaks surrounding them as well as the tall trees stealing the last remanence of light as the sun sunk stubbornly behind them.

No conveniently placed caves were found this time, possibly because Neal was not up to the task of finding one for them. It was taking all of his energy just to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and a strange burst of pride washed through Mozzie as he realized how difficult it was for Neal and how hard he was trying to get them to safety by putting his pain aside.

They ended up finding a spot under an old tree that Mozzie couldn't identify that made last nights resting place seem like a five-star resort. Mozzie really didn't like how out in the open they were, but Neal was in no shape to climb a tree and find shelter there, even though he'd probably try if Mozzie suggested it.

Mozzie was sure to keep one eye open this time as they slept.

 **I forgot to mention last chapter that I changed Neal's age in the first chapter since _JimChou_ said I was off a bit. I'm still not too sure on the math, but if that's what you think it is, then I'm sure you're right!**

 **Reviews make me smile!**


	4. Are We There Yet?

**New Chapter! Yay!**

Mozzie slept much more fitfully this time around, his body not really allowing himself to fully fall asleep just in case he had to wake quickly and start running from something, bringing Neal with him, of course.

By the time the morning sun shined annoyingly in Mozzie's eyes, he had woken up three times in the night to check on Neal - who also slept fitfully, though it probably had more to do with the pain from his injuries and discomfort of sleeping on the jungle floor than the fear of being eaten in their sleep since the young man's priorities were a tad skewed - and to make sure there were no creatures waiting to devour them. One could never be too careful when in an unfamiliar territory, and Mozzie would say that a jungle in Myanmar was _very_ unfamiliar territory, for both Mozzie and Neal, who were city boys at heart.

Neal had, once again, moved close to Mozzie for body heat, though he did not resort to full-on snuggling this time around. Mozzie was okay with the closeness this time - it gave him peace of mind by being able to feel if Neal moved at all. Though he didn't really like to admit it, Mozzie was a lot more worried about Neal than he had been before the charmer's fall.

Neal, still insisting on being the food rationer even in his injured state, decided on another granola bar for each of them for breakfast. Not exactly perfectly crafted eggs Benedict and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice with maybe a hint of a lovely dry sparkling wine to kickstart the day while overlooking the vast skyline of a far away - and civilized - city, but it was enough to keep them going for now.

Their journey was slow going since the terrain under them had become even more rocky and difficult to traverse. Many trees and other foliage still surrounded them and hid creatures of every size and rank on the food chain. Mozzie was sure to keep an eye out as they walked.

Not that he wanted to use it at all, but Mozzie was still very aware of the Glock in the backpack he was now carrying. If it came down to it, Mozzie was willing to shoot something if it threatened their lives, whether it be an animal or person.

With the way Neal's injuries were causing him to lag behind, their trek would most likely take even longer than previously planned. They were going to have to ration out their meager food even more than before, which was quite unfortunate. Mozzie was a true believer of three full meals a day to keep him going and this whole no food thing was really messing with that.

Neal was sweating and breathing hard once again, the pain and fatigue getting to him. Mozzie was just about to suggest stopping for a quick break when Neal suddenly stopped in his tracks and gazed off into the distance.

Mozzie immediately thought that Neal had seen some sort of man-eating beast that neither of them would be able to outrun. The shorter man's eyes darted around, straining to see what Neal was seeing. "What? What is it?" Mozzie asked, his voice a frantic whisper, not wanting the creature to hear him.

Not knowing what they were up against, Mozzie quickly took off the backpack and dug through it until he found the gun. He was not one to resort to violence, but he'd do what he had to to keep them alive.

Mozzie held it out in front of himself with both hands firmly on the weapon, pointing it in the direction Neal was looking towards.

Neal then did something Mozzie truly didn't expect - he started walking _toward_ the direction he was so intent on. "Where are you going, Neal?!" Mozzie asked, still whispering, annoyed when Neal didn't answer, just kept walking. "This better not be another one of those stupid self-sacrificing stunts that you tried to pull yesterday! I'm still mad at you for that, by the way!"

Neal was quite calm for a man about to face his death for the sake of his friends safety. _Too_ calm. Something was fishy...

Neal stopped near a green leafed tree about twenty feet tall and gazed up at it, but Mozzie stayed were he was, still not sure what was going on. He didn't see any flesh-eating creatures in the tree, but it was clear by Neal's sudden interest that _something_ was up there.

Neal looked back to Mozzie, rolling his eyes when he spotted the gun in his sweaty, slightly shaky hands. "Put that away, Moz, and look at these. They're water apples, a fruit that grows here, and they're eatable," Neal said enthusiastically as he pointed at one of many bunches of light red fruit that hung from the tree.

Oh, food.

Oh - _food_!

Mozzie hadn't even thought about Neal being on the lookout for something eatable. He had no clue that Neal knew about the local fruits and plants of the region, though he was the one that knew about the settlement they were currently marching towards. He must have done some studying on eatable food in this jungle as well. Mozzie really had done a good job at training Neal at the art of knowing your mark.

Mozzie himself hadn't had as much time to study the region since Neal had told him about his ' _brilliant_ ' plan only a day before they left on this derailed adventure.

Now that he knew they were relatively safe, Mozzie put the gun away, feeling like he may have jump the gun a bit - no pun intended - and came to stand in front of the tree as well, eyeing the fruit suspiciously.

"What if they're poisonous, Neal?" he asked, never one to eat just any old fruit, even if it were deemed safe by his friend.

"They're not, Moz," Neal said in slight exasperation, clearly not understanding Mozzie's concern about certain death. One of these days, the kid'll have to figure out that he wasn't invincible, hopefully before something truly terrible happened.

"You could be wrong. It's been known to happen."

Neal shot Mozzie a mild glare, not amused by the older man's comment. "What if I eat the first one? You can even wait a few minutes for the possible poison to take effect. If I keel over, then you'll know not to eat them," Neal said, making it sound like he had just suggested the most logical thing to do and not a harebrained scheme with a terrible possible outcome.

"I don't like this plan," Mozzie said as he shook his head.

"Well, I'm hungry enough to go ahead without your consent," Neal said boldly, then reached out and grabbed a ripe looking fruit, wincing slightly as he did. It wasn't much of a stretch since Neal was tall and the branches hung low enough for easy access, but it still pulled at his many abused muscles.

Neal examined the fruit for a moment, then took a rather large bite out of it, skin and all. He chewed it, looking deep in thought as he tasted the exotic flavor.

" _Well_...?" Mozzie prompted when Neal didn't do or say anything, his hand making a slightly impatient 'go on' motion.

Neal smiled in a bit of a smug way, still chewing. "I'm still alive," he stated, though it was completely unnecessary. He swallowed the possibly toxic fruit, then took another large bite.

"Do you feel lightheaded? Or nauseous? Any stomach pain? Double-vision?" Mozzie asked, mentally ticking off a list of poisoning symptoms he had in his head. Having perfect recall came in handy on many occasions, this being one of them.

Mozzie then stuck three fingers in front of Neal's face to check the young man's eyesight. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Neal pushed Mozzie's hand away, looking a tad annoyed. "You always pick three, Moz, so I really don't see the point of you ever asking me that. And besides the injuries I got yesterday, I feel fine," he said, then picked another fruit from the tree and placed it in Mozzie's upturned hand. "Your turn."

Mozzie eyed the thing in his hand with open skepticism, not trusting the dubiously innocuous red-skinned fruit one bit.

"Come on, Moz. I know you're hungry," Neal said, his voice more serious than a moment ago.

This whole crashing in a jungle thing was really pushing Mozzie past limits he did not want to go past. He was a creature of habit and not one to stray from those comforts that kept him sane in a world of secret governments and evil organizations that were slowly but surely taking over everything that their greedy hands could get ahold of.

With a sigh of a man about to sacrifice his life for the greater good, Mozzie hesitantly took a small bite of the fruit and chewed cautiously. Only having the name to go on, Mozzie had expected the fruit to taste like an apple, but it tasted more like a pear than anything, which was what they looked like for the most part.

Despite their considerable chance of death via toxic fruit, neither Neal nor Mozzie developed any symptoms that would suggest that the fruit was poisonous. Neal was right this time and Mozzie was willing to admit to that, even though Neal's smug face was quite annoying.

The fruits were on the small side, but they were plentiful. Neal and Mozzie spent a while filling their near-empty bellies with the exotic food. It took some time since the fruit was not very dense and consisted mostly of water, but it was a heck of a lot better than nothing.

They then filled the backpack with as many fruit as they could as well as filling every pocket their clothes had with the highly coveted fruit. Once they were satisfied with the amount of fruit they plundered from the tree, they were off again.

The brisk air they were once traversing in gave way to hotter, more miserable temperatures as they went farther down in elevation towards their still far-off destination. Mozzie shed his jacket and tied it around his waist hours before the temperatures reached nearly unbearable levels, but he was still sweating profusely, as was his young compadre, who somehow managed to make even _that_ look good.

The rest of the day went on uneventfully with no run-ins with wild animals or cannibals. They eventually settled on a not-so-cozy spot surrounded by trees that gave them good cover from both creatures of the night and nature. It was better than last nights resting place, but still not great.

Settling in for the night on the jungle floor once again, Mozzie had slightly more hope that they'd make it out of their current predicament than the night before. Food was less of a concern, but they still had Neal's injuries to worry about, which was plenty enough for Mozzie's slightly overactive mind to fret over.

The break in Neal's arm was already attempting to heal itself, not waiting until it was set properly, which was not good. Mozzie had re-alined the broken bones - a very painful process without painkillers flowing through your system - before he immobilized the arm with his belt as well as two sticks and thick vines he had found that worked as a splint, but it was not a permanent fix. His makeshift splint and sling were only going to do so much and he was worried about long-term damage.

If Neal's arm didn't heal properly, it could limit its future mobility, cause recurring pain for years to come, increase the chances of a re-break in the future and other complications that Mozzie did not want to think about. Neal was still young and he needed his right arm for many things that would become far more difficult without the previous flexibility of his dominate arm. They had at least three more days until they reached the settlement since they were now moving slower because of Neal's injuries and Mozzie could only hope that Neal would make it there okay.

WCWCWCWC

"If we, against all odds, make it to the settlement you insist is out here in this endless wilderness with the kooks that voluntarily choose to be this far away from a modern-day toilet, I'm never leaving the safety of the ground beneath my feet ever again," Mozzie said early the next day, his breathless voice diminishing some of the seriousness he felt.

"How will you make it back? We're planing on buying - or at least borrowing - a helicopter to get out of here, remember? Not to mention the fact that you'll have to _fly_ the thing," Neal said, even more breathless than Mozzie.

They had only been walking for an hour or so, but the exhaustion and heat was already getting the better of both of them. Water apples had been their breakfast this time, and while better than nothing, they did not contain the proper amount of protein that was needed for the energy they were exerting.

"I guess I can make an exception for that. But once we're back in America, I'm staying on solid ground," Mozzie said, pointing firmly at the ground below him to reinforce his statement.

"If you say so," Neal said, his voice making it clear that he didn't believe what Mozzie said.

"I'll be sure to find something for us to do there so we don't have to leave to country for a long while, keep your overactive mind preoccupied," Mozzie said with a pointed look. Neal being bored was what got them into this mess in the first place.

"So you still think this is my fault?" Neal asked, his exasperation clear.

"Who's plan was this?" Mozzie asked rhetorically.

"You're never going to let me hear the end of this, are you?" Neal asked, the smile on his face contradicting the annoyance heard in his voice. This banter was good for them, it helped with morale and gave them something to focus on besides exhaustion and hunger.

"A friend tells you when you do right; a _true_ friend tells you when you do wrong," Mozzie said with a finger pointed skyward.

Mozzie could tell by the expression on Neal's face that he thought long and hard about who might have said that. Their quoting game was a good distraction as well and both men enjoyed the challenge. "Who said that?" he eventually asked, giving up.

"It was a Mozzie original. Feel free to quote me anytime, so as long as you give me the proper credit," Mozzie said, satisfied that he had taught Neal yet another life lesson.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Neal said, humor lighting up his eyes. A mutual silence then descended on them as they focused on the path ahead.

The days were getting even hotter, which was not something that they needed at this point. Streams and rivers were plenty in Myanmar, so water was, thankfully, not an issue for them. Lord knew that they had enough on their plate as is.

Neal found another fruit tree that had some mangos later that day, somehow quite skilled at foraging even in his injured state. Those tasted better than the water apples did, they filled them up more and Mozzie definitely knew what they were.

'We might actually make it out of here,' Mozzie thought hopefully as they found another spot to sleep for the night. Mozzie estimated that it would take them two more days to reach the settlement that the metal bird they coveted was stashed. Two more days and they'd be out of the woods, or, more accurately, the _jungle_.

 **Poor Mozzie, he's so optimistic that they're not going to run into something else! I have** ** _plans_** **for what's going to happen to them, *smiles sinisterly*.**

 **Reviews Make Me Smile!**


	5. Settlement On The Horizon

**Thanks for all of the kind and encouraging reviews and for reading my stories! Love you all!**

Day five was just as uneventful and exhausting as day four. Fortunately, the weather was finally agreeing with them. It was possible that Mother Nature no longer felt the need to punish them for their past sins. Mozzie believed that they had endured enough to last two lifetimes of misdeeds and crimes for all the hell she had put them through in the last five days. At least they hadn't been mauled by a vicious beast - _yet_.

By the time day six rolled around, Mozzie was regretting everything that he had previously thought. The temperature once again became unbearably hot and humid and their supply of food was quickly diminishing. The lack of real food was really getting to them now and they were stopping even more often than before, which was causing them to take even longer to get to the settlement.

Neal also seemed to be getting weaker as they went on, his painful and handicapping injuries still slowing them both down. But he was somehow determined as ever to pull through this. His unwavering optimism helped keep Mozzie's belief of a positive outcome alive, which was appreciated, though not out loud.

Another terrible inconvenience was a large, rugged mountain in their path that they couldn't possibly climb. That caused them to take a detour that costed them many exhausting hours. "I have not...come this far...to die now!" Mozzie uttered breathlessly halfway around the seemingly endless mountain, every frustration he had felt in the last five days pouring out into his words.

"Jeez, dramatic much?" Neal said with a queer look aimed at his friend, still not understanding the true gravity of their unfortunate situation. Mozzie could see that his young friend was still in considerable pain, even if he still didn't express it verbally. Neal's arm still had its makeshift splint and sling on, though Mozzie had him take the belt off a few times to carefully exercise his shoulder a bit so it didn't stiffen up too much. The shoulder was healing well considering, but his arm still needed proper medical attention.

"I don't want to die in some god-forsaken jungle, Neal. I don't want to be that skeletal body Indiana Jones stumbles upon years from now while trying to find some long-lost treasure," Mozzie said worryingly, then started to think of what lost treasures that might have drawn the whip-wielding adventurer to Myanmar.

"I'm pretty sure that you'll be ripped apart and eaten by animals by that time, Moz," Neal said nonchalantly, taking Mozzie away from his whimsical musings of being the one to find the treasure and outrun a giant boulder instead of that fictional college professor that was always swooned over, much like his current companion.

Mozzie stared at Neal as his words sunk in, eyes wide with disbelief. "That is _not_ helping!"

Neal gave a short laugh at Mozzie's reaction, obviously pleased with himself. He then went on to reassure his compadre. "You don't even have to worry about that because we're going to make it out of here without becoming lunch for the local wildlife. Just wait. I'll be right and you'll have to admit it once again," Neal said with humor as well as a comforting amount of unwavering confidence.

"This time, I hope you're right," Mozzie said as he carefully stepped over a large rock that was in their path, one of many that they'd had to traverse over.

"When did you hope I wasn't right?" Neal asked, accepting Mozzie's outstretched hand with a small amount of reluctance. The kid was prideful to the core, but knew when to accept help, for the most part. Well, he did when it counted, mostly.

"When you said that I'd be ripped apart by wild animals, of course," Mozzie said, shuttering a little at the thought. That'd be quite the gruesome and unfortunate ending to the extravagant and diverse life he'd led thus far.

"I thought you didn't want to be found by Indiana Jones," Neal said, humor easily found in his voice.

"Well, no...but the alternative is even worse," Mozzie explained as he peered at the map in his hands once again. He was positive that they weren't lost, but he still wanted to make sure that they stayed on track.

Neal tipped his head in agreement, then inched closer to see the map as well, more curious than planning on giving any direction. It was Mozzie's job to navigate, and by his estimate, and he was seldom wrong, they'd make it to the settlement early on the seventh day, which was tomorrow.

Before they knew it, they'd be back to New York and busy planning their next caper, probably one to impress a certain blue-eyed femme fatale that didn't deserve a man as head-over-heels in love with her as Neal was. It was only a matter of time until luck chose to join their side.

WCWCWCWC

Finally, after just shy of a week of walking and _walking_ and _more_ _walking_ , Mozzie and Neal made it to their destination.

In the distance there was a large clearing that had half a dozen simplistic but well built buildings scattered around it as well as something large that reflected the bright sun back at them. Mozzie guessed that it was the helicopter that they were here for, but couldn't tell from this distance.

"See, I _told_ you that we'd make it," Neal said cheerfully as they continued to approach the settlement, Neal walking faster than Mozzie. The younger man's energy seemed to have revived itself somehow and Mozzie half-expected him to start jumping for joy as he ran to the clearing like an over-excited child ecstatic to ride the merry-go-round that his parent took him to. Mozzie wondered for a disquieting moment if he was the parent in that analogy, then realized something was off.

Fate had a way of knocking you off your high horse when you got too comfortable, when you actually started believing you'd find your way out of your current predicament. Mozzie was not a fan of fate at the moment since it appeared that they made it to its enemies list as well. At this rate, they were going to be on more lists of the higher powers than those of law enforcement agencies.

Neal and Mozzie stopped in their tracks when they saw a verbal altercation in front of them, both knowing that something was amiss. Instead of continuing, they ducked behind some bushes and watched the scene unfold in front of them.

About one hundred feet off in the large, grassy clearing, two beefy Asian men with automatic rifles stood with another man that appeared to be caucasian. They were standing next what actually was a helicopter, most likely the same one that Neal and Mozzie were here for. The two darker-skinned men were shouting with the third man, obviously not agreeing with something or other.

"What are they saying?" Neal whispered to Mozzie, his eyes darting back and forth between his friend and the men.

"How am _I_ supposed to know?" Mozzie asked helplessly. This was really throwing a whole toolbox full of wrenches into their escape plan.

" _You_ speak Burmese," Neal pointed out, stating the obvious. It was one of the reasons Neal had thought that this botched expedition would work. It probably would have, if that darn plane hadn't fallen out of the sky.

Mozzie barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I know I do, Neal, but they're not speaking Burmese," he explained with as much patience as he could muster at the moment.

Neal looked back to the men in confusion. "What _are_ they speaking then?"

Mozzie tried to listen to what they were saying, then shrugged. "I don't know, maybe some sort of indigenous language," he guessed since it sounded a bit like Burmese, though he really had no real clue. Next time, they were staying in the US-of-A to conduct their illicit business where nearly everyone spoke English and one could not easily get lost unless trying to navigate a shopping center during the governmentally invented holiday season when everyone turned violent and quite possibly homicidal so they could be first in line for the fad toy that year or trinket for a loved one that'd probably end up being exchanged anyway.

"Well, that makes things even more difficult," Neal muttered in annoyance after Mozzie finished with his small internal rant.

Mozzie nodded in grim agreement, then tried to think of some sort of plan. Just walking up to them and starting a conversation would probably end violently, even if they spoke a language Neal or Mozzie did. They both knew many, but it was whether or not the men would listen that would decide their fate.

"Do you still have that gun?" Neal then asked, not looking away from the arguing men. He had that _'I have a risky plan that will put my life in danger_ ' look on his face. Mozzie really hated that look.

"I'm pretty sure they're rebels, Neal, and we can't fight rebels, especially with only one gun!" Mozzie said in an angry whisper, really not liking how Neal's plan was cooking up.

"We have a flare gun, too, right?" Neal asked with a quirk of his lip, but quite possibly being serious at the same time.

"That's not even funny," Mozzie said as he shook his head, not finding the younger man's ever-present sense of humor at all entertaining at the moment.

"Hey, you're the one that claimed to be MacGyver," Neal pointed out. Mozzie was about to respond when something quite unfortunate and unexpected happened.

Without warning, Mozzie felt himself being yanked by the collar of his shirt to a standing position, a slightly undignified yelp escaping him. Turning his head to see behind him, Mozzie discovered that he was currently being held by a man that had arms like a professional weight lifter and could probably crush his skull without breaking a sweat. They were also disturbingly hairy.

Mozzie swallowed hard before turning to Neal to see that the younger man was being treated in the same inhospitable way by a burly man with a black bandana.

The man Mozzie mentally dubbed Bandana Guy for easier reference yelled something at them, but it didn't make a lick of sense to Mozzie.

"We don't understand," Mozzie said slowly, his voice loud and clear, then asked them if they understood him in Burmese, hoping that they'd speak that instead and make things much easier.

Either the man Mozzie was now referring to as Ape Arms thought that he had just insulted his mother, or understood what he said and just really didn't like him, because his equally hairy fist curled into a ball and was just about to plunge into the soft and vulnerable flesh of his stomach when Neal raised his unrestricted hand and yelled, "Stop!" with a foreign amount of fear sharpening his voice.

Still holding Mozzie with one hand, Ape Arms turned his threatening glower to Neal, his fist still poised to attack. "Please, we don't mean any harm. We're just a little lost," Neal said placatingly, eyes wide as he glanced to the large fist that was ready to strike.

Ape Arms snarled and drove his giant fist into Neal's stomach, no-doubt hitting bruised ribs that had been damaged from the fall a few days prior, if the terribly pained expression on Neal's face was any indication. Bandana Guy let go of the back of Neal's dirty shirt and the young man fell to his knees, coughing and holding his stomach that was now even worse off.

This situation was spiraling out of control very quickly and Mozzie struggled to think of a solution before things got real ugly. He turned his wide-eyed gaze to Bandana Guy, giving him the best innocent look he could muster with his friend on the ground in front of him and in obvious pain. "Please, we just want to get out of here. We're not here to wreck any rebel plans you may have going here. Do you understand?" he said, then repeated it in several languages, but none of them seemed to garner the response Mozzie was looking for.

Ape Arms then said something to Bandana Guy, but it make just as much sense as everything else they had said. Bandana Guy grabbed Neal by his sweaty hair and pulled him back up, Neal's one hand grabbing at the man's giant paw doing nothing to stop the painful grip.

The two brutes then dragged them out into the clearing where the other three men were still standing, Mozzie shooting Neal concerned glances the whole way. He wanted to yell at the guy that was dragging Neal around like some sort of rag doll, but that'd only land them in even more trouble.

Once there, Mozzie took a look at the other three men. The lighter-skinned man had a tattoo on his right bicep that Mozzie recognized as an Air-force symbol and guessed that he was the ex-military man that owned the helicopter that was next to them. He also had a long scar that started on his right eyebrow, passed his eye and continued on his cheek for an inch or two - a battle scar, no doubt. Scarface seemed like an appropriate name for this man, so that was what Mozzie dubbed him.

One of the two other men had a look about him that practically screamed 'I'm in charge, do as I say'. Mozzie dubbed him The Tyrant. The other guy looked like his IQ didn't exceed the number he could count up to with the required help of both his fingers and toes. Numb Skull was now his name.

 _'At least we made it to our destination_ ,' Mozzie thought wryly as he gazed at the metal bird before them. It wasn't large for a helicopter, but would definitely to the trick, if they could get it from these guys, that was.

The four men that Mozzie suspected were rebels then proceeded to have a heated conversation with the ex-air force guy, ignoring their new prisoners that were both trying to come up with a plan to escape before they were fed to the local wildlife. Or cannibals.

"What do we do now?" Mozzie asked in a whisper, not liking the turn of events one bit. Mozzie might have more knowledge and experience than Neal, but he did not do too well in seriously stressful situations like their current one. He was also running on near-empty food and energy wise and that was messing with his usually brilliant thinking as well. If he wasn't so depleted of brainstorming necessities, he would have figured a way out of their situation by now. Well, at least probably.

"We wait to see what their plans are for us. They might even let us go," Neal whispered hopefully, his young mind still optimistic and naïve, even after the heartbreak and disappointments Mozzie knew he had gone through already.

"That's not a good idea at all, Neal," Mozzie said, though it really was the only thing that they could do right now.

"Then stop asking me for ideas," Neal snapped, but not with much heat. He understood that this was not an optimal thinking environment for Mozzie, or himself, for that matter.

A minimum of one gun was always aimed their way, so the two longtime friends weren't about to make a run for it just yet. The rebels hadn't bothered taking the backpack Mozzie had, probably misjudgingly thinking that two lost Americans didn't have any firepower, but Mozzie didn't want to start a shootout unless completely necessary. Waiting seemed to be their only option at the moment, no matter how unaccomplishing that was.

After whatever the men were arguing about was settled - Mozzie guessed that it had something to do with the helicopter next to them, but couldn't really tell - Neal and Mozzie were able to get a word in. Both of them tried to talk to them in a few more languages that were spoken in Myanmar, but the other men were obviously not going to listen, no matter if they understood them or not. It seemed that these were not the peaceful type of rebels, if there was ever a such thing.

A shout and a rough shove towards the jungle for each of them with the barrel of enemy guns was easy enough for Neal and Mozzie to decipher - ' _Go that way or we'll just shoot you here_.'

"This is the death march, Neal! We're going to be shot execution style and be left out here to be torn apart by wild animals!" Mozzie said as they reluctantly followed Ape Arms away from the helicopter. Bandana Guy walked behind them to make sure they didn't try to make a run for it while The Tyrant, Scarface and Numb Skull stayed behind, probably to hash out the details of their new agreement.

"Just calm down and follow my lead," Neal whispered to Mozzie, his risky plan already formulated in that quick-witted brain of his and ready for its trial run.

"I hate when you say that," Mozzie moaned, knowing that whatever Neal had planned, it was going to be dangerous. Of course, there didn't seem to be another way to escape than dangerously. Mozzie just hoped Neal thought his plan through.

 **I had a lot of trouble trying to figure out where to stop this chapter since it's a long scene, but I think I finally got it right. I have about 80% of the next chapter written, so it shouldn't take as long for that one.**

 **Recent studies suggest that reviews are what makes the world go 'round, so get typing if you want things to keep spinning how their suppose to! :-p**


	6. No Rest For The Weary

**Here's a new chapter for you guys! Enjoy!**

With Neal's plan in apparent motion, Mozzie waited with a small amount on impatience for him to take action. With Ape Arms leading them to their final resting place and Bandana Guy trailing behind to prevent escape, Mozzie and Neal had no choice but to continue on their current path, so Mozzie had no clue how Neal was going to get them out of their current mess. But the kid was a quick-witted one, so Mozzie had hope for them yet.

The four of them walked for a few more minutes until they were farther into the depths of the jungle. Neal started to slow down and gain some distance from Ape Arms and Mozzie dutifully followed suit, knowing that something was about to go down. Bandana Guy didn't like that one bit and showed his displeasure by shoving them forward again.

As Neal was pushed, he bent forward, holding his broken arm with his opposite hand and cried out in pain. Even though Mozzie knew that it was part of the plan, that awful sound still pulled at his heartstrings.

Bandana Guy sneered and reached out to grab Neal when the completely unexpected happened.

Mozzie stood in shock as Neal turned and kneed Bandana Guy's jewels with paralyzing force, then socked him across the face. There was only one other time Mozzie had seen Neal get into a physical altercation - that had been after a series of unfortunate events that led to Kate getting on the wrong side of some shady guys back when they had been still conning together, prompting Neal (and Mozzie since he'd never let Neal go on such a dangerous mission alone) to come to her rescue by allowing his darker side to come out, something that he, fortunately, kept locked up tight unless people he cared for were threatened - and it was quite startling to witness.

Mozzie snapped out of his shocked daze at that point by picking up a nearby rock and smashing it over Bandana Guy's head before he could retaliate, the collusion making a sickening cracking sound. Mozzie definitely wasn't a fighter either, but desperate times and all that.

Bandana Guy collapsed in a heap and Mozzie was about to celebrate their victory until he heard Ape Arms yelling. Mozzie whipped around to see that the large man had his equally large gun pointed right at him, just about to pull the trigger.

Mozzie pinched his eyes shut by instinct as he heard the inevitable gunshot and felt an impact to his chest a split-second later, falling to the ground by the force of it.

Mozzie had been positive that the bullet had hit him - even though there was no pain yet - until he hesitantly opened his eyes and saw Neal on top of him, grabbing for the backpack that had fallen next to them and pulling the Glock out of it with startling speed.

Still a bit in shock from his near-death experience, Mozzie peered around to see that they had landed behind a large bush so Ape Arms, fortunately, wasn't able to see them from that position.

Neal crouched over Mozzie almost protectively, aiming the gun with his only available hand. Two deafeningly loud gunshots rang out as two bullets left the gun that Neal held. Mozzie could see through the branches of the bush as the bullets hit Ape Arms with surprising accuracy. Ape Arms went down like a hairy, oversized rock.

Mozzie knew that Neal was a crack-shot from seeing him shoot a grappling hook gun once or twice in the past to gain access to some difficult to penetrate places, but he wasn't using his dominant hand now and he still managed to hit a target from that distance. That was definitely surprising to see as well. He really was a mystery to even to Mozzie, who had known him for years now.

Neal stood and stared at Ape Arms' dead body for a minute, looking even more shocked than Mozzie to have shot the man. Knowing Neal's caring and generally non-violent nature, he'd be broken up about taking a life, even if it was the only option. It was something they'd have to deal with once things settled down. No need for more brooding session than necessary, and Neal was _definitely_ a master at those.

After visibly shaking himself out of his stupor, Neal went over to Bandana Guy, who was still out cold, and liberated his automatic rifle from him. After Mozzie climbed to his feet, Neal handed him the rifle without a word, but a serious expression was set on his face as he locked eyes with the older man. Mozzie nodded solemnly as he took the weapon, determined as Neal to get out of here alive, no matter the cost.

The other three men must have heard the gunshots because they came very quickly and started their shooting as well, because taking down two rebels apparently wasn't enough of a challenge for them.

"Come on!" Neal said as he crouch-walked to hide behind a nearby tree, deadly bullets flying past them. Mozzie quickly scrambled after Neal while still keeping close to the ground as well.

A bullet whizzed past Mozzie's head, missing his intellectual brain by mere inches and causing him to dive for the safety of the tree Neal was hiding behind. He landed in an awkward heap next to Neal, who was shooting again.

Bullets grazed their current cover and bark went flying as Mozzie tried his best to avoid the little pieces of lead that were sailing left and right. Fortunately, the tree they were using was plenty large enough for both of them to hide behind.

Neal looked like some sort of wounded soldier as he rounded the tree and fired a few shots before returning to safety as if he had been doing this his whole life, sweat slicking his hair and rolling down his face. Neal flinched away as more bullets tried to hit them, his eyes wide and breathing fast as he became completely engrossed in the wild firefight.

Mozzie peeked around the tree when he thought that the gunfire had lulled slightly and shot in short bursts with his assault rifle in the direction the bullets were coming from, then took cover again. He felt so out of his element, so discombobulated from the whole unlikely situation, but there really was no other choice but to keep firing.

When he had peered around the tree, Mozzie was able to spot the places that some of the men were hiding and he was able to be much more accurate the second time he shot, though he knew that he had yet to hit anyone, and neither had Neal. But hey, they were trying!

"I don't like this plan either, Neal! We are out-manned and out-gunned!" Mozzie said as he waited for the right moment to pop out again, panting from the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins.

"It was this or go out quietly and you know I'm always one to have the last word," Neal said cockily, an equally cocky smirk on his face.

"Oh, that's _definitely_ true," Mozzie said in fond exasperation, then ducked when more bullets came their way.

How did they even end up in a shootout in a jungle against a bunch of rebels anyway? This was not how their ruby 'mining' expedition was suppose to go down _at all_. Neal was just a magnet for trouble, no matter where he went. How else could one explain their current, highly unlikely predicament?

More shots rang out, but there was no subsequent hits to their cover. All fire soon ceased completely and Mozzie and Neal looked to each other, not sure what happened.

Both men cautiously peered around the tree and were shocked to see Scarface - the former Air Force pilot and owner of the helicopter that Neal and Mozzie wanted to borrow - standing some thirty feet away with his hands in the air, an international sign of surrender.

Looking around, Mozzie could see all of the previously trigger-happy rebels lying on the jungle floor, dead by all appearances.

Neal and Mozzie simultaneously ducked back behind the tree discus the new development. "Uh, what just happened?" Neal asked Mozzie, just as confused as the older man.

"I think Scarface just killed The Tyrant and Numb Skull," Mozzie said thoughtfully as he nodded to himself.

Neal gave Mozzie a baffled look that had humor mixed with it. "Seriously? You gave them names?"

"It made it easier to differentiate them in my head," Mozzie defended, having more than a good reason to name them. It was like an endless maze of information in that noggin of his and there needed to be order or he'd go mad. He would make a great mad scientist, though...

Neal shook his head, smirking at what he probably would have called ' _Mozzie's antics_ ', then turned back to the matter at hand. "What do we do with - what's his name? Scarface?" he asked, always ready to ask for advice from the older, and wiser, man, at least most of the time.

"I think he may actually be one of the good guys," Mozzie said, not able to come up with another reason why he would have killed the rebels, who he seemed to have just made some sort of deal with, then shown his intention of no harm by giving up his best means of defense.

"You do know Scarface was a drug lord and murderer, right?" Neal asked humorously, probably having watched the movie because of Kate and her near obsession with the classics.

"Well, I didn't know that he was on our side when I gave him the name," Mozzie said, once again defending his internal organizing system. It wasn't _his_ fault that the man had a scar quite similar to the infamous Tony Montana.

"Maybe we should talk to him, see what he has to say," Neal suggested cautiously, not really sure how to proceed.

"I guess it couldn't hurt, so as long as he doesn't shoot us, that is," Mozzie said, hoping that this didn't turn around and bite them in the keister like so many other things had in the last week.

Neal shrugged as he nodded, letting Mozzie decide. Well, they certainly couldn't just stay behind this tree all day, hoping Scarface would eventually leave so they could sneak to his helicopter and fly off with Scarface none-the-wiser. What were the chances that he just happened to have left the keys in the ignition anyway? If helicopters even _had_ keys, that was. Mozzie was more of a plane guy, himself, so he wouldn't know.

Very cautiously, Neal and Mozzie left the cover of their tree, both guns lowered but at the ready just in case they needed to do something drastic but necessary.

Scarface still had his gun at his feet, trying his best to convey his wish for peace, or that was what he _wanted_ them to think. Who knew, he could have been trying to lure them out as his friends played dead, very well, Mozzie concluded, seeing the grotesque blood covering their clothes and the lack of breathing. But Mozzie now knew that there was no boundaries to the craziness this misadventure was capable of.

Neal and Mozzie stopped in front of Scarface, neither sure what to say to the mysterious man in front of them. Fortunately, said man saved them from coming up with something to say by speaking up first - in English, thankfully. It really was about time that they found someone that was willing to speak English. Mozzie was definitely glad to hear that familiar language after struggling with a completely foreign one with some _very_ bad listeners for so long.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't have helped you before, but it would have been too risky. I'm glad that you two are alright. My name's Chase, by the way," Scarface - or rather Chase, it seemed - said in a surprisingly kind voice, actually sounding like he was glad for them to be alive.

His rugged appearance - an old, long scar on a war-worn face with a square jaw, crew-cut and thick stubble - made him out to be a tough, Rambo-esque man that couldn't care less if they were dead or alive, but it seemed like he was actually telling the truth.

"Better late than never, I suppose," Neal muttered a bit angrily, earning him a scolding glance from Mozzie. Now was _not_ the time to make enemies with their savior, even if it would have been nicer to have not been very nearly killed before being rescued.

Mozzie stepped up - both literally and figuratively - to keep the peace between them intact. "If you don't mind me asking, why did you kill these men? It seemed like you just made some sort of deal with them," Mozzie said, curious as well as quite suspicious. Every action had a motive behind it, but Mozzie wasn't sure what this man's was.

"I didn't want to and didn't plan on going through with it, but I had to change my plans of when I was going to turn on them when you guys got here. They wanted me to transport weapons to one of their camps and if I would have refused, they would have eventually shot me and found a new pilot. The only reason I was still alive when you two got here was because pilots are hard to come by around here since there are only about ten people within a hundred miles," Chase explained, then looked at the pair suspiciously. "What are you guys doing way out here, anyway?"

Mozzie and Neal looked at each other, silently asking the other what they should divulge to this complete stranger. Neal shrugged, so Mozzie decided on the truth for once. It seemed like it'd be too exhausting to lie at this point anyway.

"Our plane went down and we've been hiking through this wilderness for a week now. We were actually hoping you'd be able to part with, or at least willing to let us borrow, your helicopter. We just want to get home. I don't know about my compadre here, but I've _definitely_ had enough of this jungle, and the outdoors in general, to last a few lifetimes," Mozzie said in all seriousness, more than ready to get back to the wonderful concrete jungle of New York.

Chase looked quite hesitant, probably because he'd just made a similar deal with some pretty bad men, so Mozzie grabbed the backpack that had been left a few feet away during the intense firefight and pulled out a large stack of bills, presenting it to Chase. "We're willing to pay, if you need more motivation," Mozzie said, his voice lowered a little pointlessly since no one was around to hear.

Chase seemed to think it over, then nodded. "I'll help you guys out, but not for your money," he said firmly, apparently a man with some noble morals. Mozzie didn't understand that for a moment, and neither did Neal, if the equally perplexed expression on his face was any indication, but they decided to let it go for now. If the man didn't want to take their money, who were they to complain?

Now with a deal made, Mozzie, Neal and their new acquaintance walked back to the field that had the helicopter. Mozzie took the backpack once again and threw the strap of the assault rifle over his shoulder just in case he needed to use it later, even though all he wanted to do was throw it on the ground with a look of pure disgust and leave it there to decompose for a few thousand years. Neal also put his gun away, but in the waistband of his pants.

Chase did not pick his gun back up, but neither other man was taking any chances. They weren't only arming themselves just in case this seemingly trustworthy man that had graciously offered to help them suddenly turned on them, but for more rebels as well. Reinforcements could be coming at any second and they needed to be prepared. And like Mozzie had said the day before, they've come too far to die now.

Once they arrived at the helicopter, Chase got inside the cockpit and Mozzie turned to Neal to give him a relieved smile and possibly a wise quote perfectly fitting for their situation, but he once again observed the unexpected when his gaze landed on his friend.

"You're bleeding!"

 **Reviews make me smile!**


	7. An Adventure To Forget

**Thanks so much for all of the kind words! And I'm sorry that this update has taken so long! Here it is now!**

"You're bleeding!" Mozzie yelped as he waved his hands a bit frantically at the vivid red blood on the left - not the side with the other injuries - sleeve of Neal's filthy shirt, not sure how he had missed that before. When had Neal even been hit? Mozzie really hoped that it hadn't been when Neal had pushed him out of the way - that bullet had been meant for him.

Neal's brow furrowed, clearly confused, then looked down at himself. His eyes widened as he spotted the quickly growing red stain on the short sleeve on his no longer white shirt. "Oh, shit..." was all that Neal, a man known for his silver tongue, came up with that to say. Neal really wasn't a curser, and neither was Mozzie, but now did seem as good of a time as any to start their tab for the swear jar.

Swallowing his bubbling up fears and taking a closer look, Mozzie saw the blood making crimson lines down Neal's arm, the red rivets growing and increasing by number by the second.

Now that Neal knew that he was injured, the pain seemed to register to him. Mozzie almost regretted pointing it out when he saw Neal's whole body tense and his hand hover uncertainly over the wound.

First thing was first, they had to identify the type of wound, and if it was of the bullet variety - which was most likely since they had just been in a shootout - they'd have to check if the bullet was still in his arm. After that, an impromptu surgery if a bullet was found, then stop the bleeding, possibly with some sort of tourniquet. Hopefully they hadn't run out of belts...

Mozzie returned from his mental diagnosing when Neal paled and started to waver unsteadily on his feet. Mozzie immediately reached out to support his friend, then assisted him to the open side of the helicopter so he could sit down on the floor of the aircraft while sticking his feet out the side.

Ignoring his distaste for blood and all things unclean, Mozzie sat down next to Neal and carefully rolled up his shirt sleeve to take a better look. It wasn't pretty. There was a small but damaging hole on Neal's arm near his shoulder that was oozing blood at an alarming rate.

Looking at the other side of Neal's arm, Mozzie was relieved to see that there was another wound there. Not that they needed _another_ bleeding hole to deal with, it just meant that they didn't have to find and remove the bullet since it had already left Neal's body. Mozzie really, _really_ didn't want to try to remove a bullet from Neal out here in this cesspool of infectious diseases, or ever again since the kid was a bullet magnet. Once was more than enough since neither man had enjoyed _that_ experience.

"Through-and-through, good," Mozzie muttered to himself. The bullet didn't seem to have hit bone, which was quite fortunate since Neal already had _one_ broken arm to deal with. Neal recovering from two broken arms would have been hell for both of them. With his current and quickly growing list of injuries, Neal's recovery was going to be a practice in saint-like patience and great perseverance, from both of them.

Mozzie's accident-prone friend was attempting to look at the wounds as well, but the angle was all wrong and he was probably hurting himself even more because of his never-ending curiosity. He really was much like a cat in many aspects.

"What's the diagnosis, doc?" Neal joked, obviously trying to ease some of the tension from the serious situation. His voice was laced with the pain that he was feeling and it made Mozzie's heart ache to hear.

"Well, it could have been worse, but it could have been better - like not getting hit _at all_ better," Mozzie said, playing along with Neal's attempt at levity.

"Dodge better next time, got it," Neal said, nodding to himself.

"How did you not even feel this?" Mozzie asked, though he already knew it was the adrenaline that had been coursing through Neal's veins during the firefight that prevented him from feeling any pain. Mozzie wished that he still had that immunity.

"I sure as hell am feeling it now," Neal said in a voice strained by pain, adding twenty-five more cents to the swear jar. His left hand - the one that hadn't been immobilized by the belt and splint Mozzie had strapped to him several days ago - had a white-knuckle grip on the edge of the helicopter as he fought to find an outlet for the pain.

Right then, Chase climbed back out of the front of the helicopter and came up to the pair. "Damn, you got shot?" he said as he gazed at the blood coating Neal's arm, then took a step forward. "You need to put pressure on that to stop the bleeding."

"I know _that_. I'm no amateur," Mozzie snapped as he shot a glare at Chase, insulted that his ability to tend to his friend was put in question. Mozzie then grabbed a thick, clean-ish looking towel that happened to be folded up and conveniently resting on one of the seats of the helicopter - something he had been _just_ about to do without Chase's unnecessary instruction. He wrapped it around Neal's arm to cover both wounds with a sympathetic wince as Neal made a valiant effort to stifle a whimper. Mozzie put Neal's hand around the towel for him to hold it in place, then returned to glare at Chase.

Chase put his hands up placatingly. "Hey, I'm not insinuating that you don't know what you're doing, I'm just trying to help," he said kindly, which automatically made Mozzie want to not trust him even more. But the sincere tone of his voice and honest expression on his face made Mozzie realize that the man was actually telling the truth.

"Right, sorry," Mozzie muttered quietly, not a fan of admitting that he'd let his emotions get the better of him.

Neal spoke up then, his voice somehow quite small without being any less loud than before. "Guys..."

Mozzie quickly turned his attention back to his friend, who seemed to have turned a few shades paler in just a few minutes. Sweat was rolling down his face and the lines of pain etched there were deep.

Chase quickly took off his belt and approached the two, which made Mozzie tense and unconsciously inch closer to Neal. With Neal injured - even more than he had been before - and Chase's background in the military, he could easily catch Mozzie off guard, kill him, probably with some super-fast ninja move that Mozzie wouldn't even see coming, then take Neal out in a similar manner and keep all of their money for himself.

Mozzie knew that money made even noble men mad with greed and was sure to keep an eye out for any funny business while Chase wrapped the belt around Neal's arm, directly above the towel, tightening it to the point of making Neal try to and fail to stifle a cry of pain. If Chase hadn't been trying to help, he would have been facing the full extent of Mozzie's wrath at that point.

"We need to get going. There's a hospital about an hour from here by air. I can take you to it," Chase said after he finished securing the belt. Mozzie double-checked his work, just to be sure. The makeshift bandage and tourniquet slowed the bleeding down considerably, but it didn't stop it. As much as Mozzie loathed to admit it, Neal needed immediate medical attention, the kind that Mozzie couldn't manage on his own, especially out here.

"That would be much appreciated," Mozzie said sincerely, and Neal nodded in agreement.

Mozzie, with maybe a little bit of help from Chase, got Neal settled in on the bench seat in the back of the helicopter, with Mozzie sitting next to him, thankfully not against the bloody side. The sounds that had Neal uttered during the brief but strenuous location change were nearly inhuman and made all of the previous sounds of pain seem like lighthearted bouts of laughter in comparison.

The small trip seemed to have zapped the last of Neal's reserves out of him, his head resting against the headrest as his breaths came in short, harsh bursts that had his chest heaving unevenly.

Chase closed the side door and climbed into the front of the cockpit to start up the bird, which actually wasn't as loud inside of the helicopter as Mozzie had been expecting. They didn't need those big, clunky headsets to talk to each other, so that made things a little less cumbersome.

They took off quickly, which was fortunate since Neal seemed to be deteriorating more and more by the minute. His head slumped onto Mozzie's shoulder and Mozzie was alarmed to feel the amount of heat radiating from the younger man, despite the fine tremors vibrating through his lithe frame - from pain, blood loss, or both.

Neal just kept getting more limp next to Mozzie, so the older man made an attempt to keep him awake. "Hey, stay awake, Neal. No sleeping on the job. I taught you that," Mozzie said with a hint of pride. When they had first met, Neal had been a good con-artist and thief, but Mozzie had brought him to the next level, and Neal had been willing and eager to learn anything Mozzie wanted to teach him, except anything to do with relationships for some unknown reason.

"Jobs a bust, Moz. Has been since you crashed the plane," Neal murmured quietly, his voice slurring a bit too much for Mozzie's liking. Neal had his arms crossed over his chest with his right hand gripping the bullet wound in his left arm - a bit awkwardly because of the splint and belt - staunching the blood as best as he could. Mozzie didn't think he'd be able to do a better job, so he let Neal keep holding the towel.

Mozzie was about to protest against Neal's crazy accusation until he realized that the man was not up for an argument. "I don't think we should re-hash that argument now. We'll have plenty of time for finger pointing and blame placing while you're recuperating," Mozzie said as he patted Neal's head a bit awkwardly, not sure where else he could touch since he'd managed to get hurt everywhere else.

Neal hummed and closed his eyes, apparently plenty content with Mozzie's shoulder being his pillow.

"Nope, none of that," Mozzie admonished, shaking Neal very lightly.

Surprisingly, Neal listened by opening his eyes and forcing himself to sit up more. His eyes had gained a glassy appearance to them that made Mozzie's stomach clench painfully.

"Your flare for the dramatics knows no bounds," Mozzie remarked, probably with more fondness than what was appropriate. The kid could never resist soaking up a compliment for all it was worth, so Mozzie figured it'd be a good way to keep him awake and distracted from the pain.

"I've always been an attention-seeker," Neal said with humor and something that looked a lot a like scabbed-over pain that hinted at the reason he always craved the spotlight - for someone to see him, for someone to notice - shining in his eyes. Mozzie only knew bits and pieces of Neal's past, but it was enough to know it hadn't been all sunshine and daisies.

Judging by the way Neal seemed to, at some _immensely_ foolish level, try to impress the very FBI agent that was trying to catch him and put him in prison with more and more daring and inventive cons and heists - as well as win back the heart of Kate, who Mozzie doubted even possessed such an organ - he was sure to have at least daddy if not mommy issues as well.

The Neal Mozzie knew and the young conman's façade was a complete contradiction to the other. He seemed to think so highly of himself, yet he wouldn't think twice about doing something dangerous that could easily cost himself his life. For someone that loved himself as much as Neal acted like he did, then he shouldn't have risked his life so often and so carelessly.

Neal's façade of confidence border-lining on egotistic was sometimes quite annoying to witness. It wasn't who Neal was, but, of course, most conmen like them bore many traits that concealed their true selves and any weakness that those real traits revealed. Who would trust a shy, soft-spoken kid that had daddy and quite possibly mommy issues with their prized possessions or security codes? Only suckers, and there weren't enough of them in the world to keep them in business.

Mozzie's attention was brought back to the present when Neal swallowed thickly, then let out a sound that was an odd mix between a moan and a hum.

"Dizzy," he said as he closed his eyes against the spinning of the whirling blades above them, sounding a bit dazed. Hypovolemic shock, Mozzie's mind supplied immediately. That was _definitely_ not good. Mozzie gulped rather loudly as he struggled to contain his worry. He knew what to do, he could deal with this.

"Sorry, mon frère, but we're going to have to move," Mozzie said regretfully. If previous experiences were any indication, any movement hurt Neal significantly, and Mozzie did not want that at all. Of course, dealing with the symptoms of shock was a little more pressing than Neal's comfort. That didn't make what he had to do any easier.

Neal opened his bleary eyes and gazed at Mozzie confusedly, then looked out the window of the helicopter. "Are we there already?"

"No, not yet. We need to elevate your feet to help with blood flow," Mozzie explained patiently.

Neal nodded a bit sluggishly, then let Mozzie help him to the relatively clean floor with his feet propped up on the seat. It was a slow, painful process, but after some creative moving and a whole lot of close contact, they got it done.

Mozzie found a discarded windbreaker and balled in up to make a pillow for Neal's head in an attempt to bring a small amount of comfort to his friend. It seemed terribly inadequate, but Neal seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.

Wanting to be on the same level as Neal, Mozzie chose to sit on the floor next to Neal's head, watching as the younger man's face scrunched up in pain as he gripped the now blood-soaked towel in a loosening grip. Blood trickled between his pale knuckles, etching themselves into the minute cracks of his skin.

"Here, let me take over," Mozzie offered, already reaching over to hold the towel for Neal. Neal winced at the extra pressure Mozzie applied and gasped slightly when Mozzie stretched his arm above him to put it higher than his heart. "Sorry," Mozzie murmured guiltily, hating to cause Neal pain.

Neal shook his head. "You're...you're just trying to help," he said truthfully, then laughed with a wince and a shake of his head. "Wow...this sucks. Remind me not to get shot...ever again," he said a bit breathlessly, closing his eyes again. Moving around seemed to have woken Neal up a bit and made him more aware, but he still seemed a bit dazed and sluggish.

"I know it does, but we're almost there. You'll be at the hospital and have the nurses fighting over who gets to treat you in no time," Mozzie quipped, earning a small smile from Neal.

"And you'll be driving them all nuts," Neal murmured humorously without opening his eyes.

"Only because I care," Mozzie replied solemnly. Neal answered with a smile, not one of his dazzling conman smiles that had women - and quite often men - forget whatever they had been doing. It was the real, hopeful one that rarely surfaced, the same kind that he always got when he realized that someone actually cared for him. _Definite_ parent issues.

After a seemingly endless ride in which Mozzie kept Neal awake by talking to him about just about everything and nudging him when necessary, the helicopter landed on the helipad on the roof of the hospital with professional ease that barely shook the passengers of the aircraft.

By how fast medical personnel appeared and by the lack of angry shouting for landing on their roof, Mozzie guessed that Chase had radioed in ahead to tell them that they were on their way, which was quite smart since they were ready for their new patient and there could have been a problem if there had not been a spot for them to land if another helicopter was already parked there.

A throng of medical staff surrounded them on either side of the helicopter in an instant, asking questions in Burmese with rapid-fire speed that left Mozzie struggling a bit to keep up. Neal seemed a bit startled by the sheer amount of people around them all of a sudden, his dazed blue eyes staring at Mozzie with a touch of fear shining through.

Mozzie wanted to ease Neal's worries, but he was rudely pushed out of the way and he couldn't get back to Neal's side with all of the medical staff assessing the young man with calm urgency. Before either man knew it, Neal had been transported to a gurney and was being wheeled into the depths of the hospital.

Mozzie moved to follow, but he was blocked by a man in blue scrubs that Mozzie would have been able to take down if it really came down to it. The man was speaking to him in Burmese, telling him that he was a doctor and asking him if he was hurt and what his name was, but those were not important questions - the important questions all had to do with _Neal's_ health, not his own.

Chase showed up at that point to play peacemaker before things got physical, but he didn't seem to be on Mozzie's side, which seemed unfair. Mozzie insisted on following Neal, but the doctor seemed to think that he needed to be checked out, too, and Chase agreed. Mozzie supposed that he couldn't actually help Neal anymore at this point, no matter how much he still felt that he needed to.

Only after getting assurance that Neal was being well taken care of, Mozzie reluctantly allowed the doctors to do their invasive poking and prodding. As long as Neal was okay, then Mozzie was doing his job right. Lord knew that the kid made _that_ a daily challenge.

 **I think there will only be one more chapter in this story, but if you want to see more from me, just click on my name at the top of the page!**

 **Reviews make me smile! :-)**


	8. Patience Is A Virtue

**This is the second to last chapter to this story! Even though I'm sad to see it end, I had a blast writing it and I loved to hear how much you guys have liked reading it! A win-win situation if you ask me!**

After a perfunctory exam that informed Mozzie of what he already knew - he was just fine and not in need of medical care - he was freed from his well-meaning captives to navigate the warren-like hospital to locate Neal.

Yes, Mozzie was humble enough to be able to admit that he was a bit dehydrated and malnourished, and definitely exhausted, but it was nothing a few hearty meals, exquisite bottles of wine and full, uninterrupted nights of sleep in a real bed couldn't fix.

He was already given a nutritional protein bar and plenty of water to help him recover from their long trek. Neal, on the other hand, had a longer and more complicated list of injuries and recovery time.

Neal, for his part, was laying on a small cot in an overcrowded and frankly stifling emergency room that had so many other cots scattered around that they were nearly touching one another. It made Mozzie a tad claustrophobic and wish for even more disinfectant than what was already covering every bare patch of his skin.

Once Mozzie got closer to the bed Neal was on, swerving back and forth through the maze of beds, patients and staff to avoid some of the more contagious looking individuals, he could see that Neal's right arm was in a dark blue sling - to support his healing shoulder - that also had a temporary brace from his wrist to just before his elbow - for his broken arm - not yet set and covered in plaster, Mozzie noted with displeasure.

A thick layer of white gauze that had a few splotches of red was wrapped around Neal's left arm near the shoulder, covering the bullet wounds, both entry and exit. An IV was also sticking out of the back of his left hand, providing him the nutrients and drugs that he needed. Another IV, this one with a red liquid, was busy restoring the blood that he'd lost. He was only a shade or two darker than the white sheet that covered his legs and torso, but that was an improvement from how he had looked an hour ago.

Mozzie wasn't into all of that cliché business since he was his own man - Kate was the one that loved the classics and sometimes she didn't recognize when they were just plain old clichés - but he had to admit that Neal, laying on that rickety cot, looking to all of the world like a helpless kid in way over his head - which he very well could have been - looked so very fragile and young at that moment. He knew that everyone said that when a friend fell ill and was bedridden or hospitalized, but, in this instance, it was so painfully true that it made Mozzie's heart clench as if a vice was suddenly surrounding the vital organ.

Neal's bright blue eyes opened as he heard Mozzie approach, apparently able to distinguish him from the cacophony of noise surrounding them. "Hey, Moz," he said quietly, his usually bouncy energy completely absent. Mozzie supposed losing as much blood as Neal had would do that even to someone as energetic as the young man in front of him usually was.

Mozzie also noticed that they had changed him out of his filthy clothes and into a white, paper-thin hospital gown that had some sort of repeating flower print on it, something that Neal would have balked at if he was in a more lucid state.

"Hey, man. How you feeling?" Mozzie asked as stood at the end of the cot Neal was laying in and wiped the metal frame with his sleeve, then cautiously placed his hand upon it, hoping that his voice was upbeat enough to hide his worry.

"Tired," Neal replied with surprising honesty, then attempted to find a more comfortable position on the thin mattress that probably didn't _have_ a comfortable position, wincing as the movement aggravated his many abused muscles.

"Are you in pain?" Mozzie asked worriedly, ready to track down a nurse and demand medication for his fallen friend.

"A little, but not as much as before," Neal said with as much casual charm he could muster, which wasn't all that much but more than Mozzie had expected considering recent events.

Mozzie nodded, still considering his plan to find a nurse. He scoped the large room of ordered chaos, but every single staff member seemed far too busy to care for someone that they had deemed not in need of urgent care.

"I've already been given pain medication, Moz, but thanks," Neal said, apparently knowing exactly what Mozzie was thinking, which wasn't nearly as disconcerting as it should have been.

"What about your arm? They haven't even set and casted it yet?" Mozzie asked as he indicated the injured appendage, concern welling up again. Mozzie wasn't positive, but they may even need to do surgery to re-align the bones.

"From what I was able to discern from a nice nurse that spoke much poorer English than she seemed to think that she did, the orthopedist has his hands full at the moment," Neal said with little to no concern in his voice, most likely the work of the drugs they were pumping him with.

"There's only one orthopedist?" Mozzie asked a bit doubtfully. The hospital they had ended up in was small and not nearly as sterile, technological and well-staffed as a typical American hospital, so it was quite possible that there was only one doctor per field of practice.

Neal simply shrugged, then winced when his body reminded him how stupid of an idea that was. The lines of pain on his face smoothed out quickly, calming Mozzie enough to not ask him if he was okay again.

Seeing that it was going to be a while, Mozzie pulled a nearby chair that wasn't being used up to the head of the small bed and settled in for the long haul.

Neal seemed too tired to keep up any sort of conversation, so Mozzie didn't bother trying to make small talk and keep him from resting. That made the wait much more dull, but Mozzie wasn't about to interrupt Neal's chance at the rest that he so clearly needed.

It didn't take long for Neal's breathing to even out as his face relaxed, falling into as restful as a slumber as he could manage in such a noisy room and on such a hard cot. Still, it was good for him to rest and regain his energy.

Mozzie tried to wait patiently, he really did, but a half an hour later, his patience was nearly nonexistent. A clumsy patient that was nearby accidentally knocked over a tray of medical utensils with a clatter loud enough to startle Neal awake, so Mozzie was able to vocalize his concerns. "Where is this orthopedist? Shouldn't he - _or she_ \- be here by now?" Mozzie questioned as he scanned the room for someone that looked like they might enjoy breaking bones, in order to heal them, of course.

"It's fine, Moz. They'll get to me when they can," Neal murmured sleepily, his usually sharp blue eyes half-mast and dulled from drugs.

"You've been here longer than most of these people, and you're in need of more care," Mozzie argued, having watched everyone around him for the majority of his entertainment while he had waited.

"I'm not going to keel over now that I've gotten some blood in me, so I'm not in an much of a critical condition than other people. Plus, I need the orthopedist, not one of these doctors. They know what they're doing, Moz," Neal stated calmly.

Seeing that Neal was not in the least bit concerned, Mozzie reluctantly leaned back in his chair and waited with his last remaining patience. Neal dozed in and out while Mozzie literally twiddled his thumbs, feeling restless and completely useless.

"The Titanic sank faster!" Mozzie proclaimed twenty-odd minutes later, hands spreading wide to further reinforce his unease, accidentally waking Neal in the process.

Neal sighed exasperatedly, clearly unconcerned about how long it was taking to get medical care in a freaking hospital!

"You know what? I'm going to go track this so-called 'doctor' and get him down here! Then, after we leave, they will receive a very strongly-worded letter about this clear negligence and favoritism!" Mozzie declared as Neal, apparently giving up on rest, sat up a bit more, resting his back on the metal headboard that was cushioned by a rather flat pillow.

"That'd be a stupid thing to do," Neal informed his friend after a yawn and a rub of his eyes.

"Excuse me?" Mozzie asked with raised eyebrows, surprised by Neal's uncharacteristic brashness.

Neal smiled at his confused friend, completely unapologetic as his eyes sparkled with amusement. "A friend tells you when you do right; a true friend tells you when you do wrong - Mozzie, a man of endless wisdom and conspiracy theories that educate the naïve. As your true friend, I am obligated to tell you when you _did_ or are _about_ to do something stupid," Neal said with a smirk, quoting - verbatim, Mozzie noted with pride - what Mozzie had said a few days prior.

Neal's words made it clear that he really did look up to and admire Mozzie and his knowledgeable words, despite the sarcasm coloring his voice. It was one of Neal's many defense mechanisms to avoid the uncomfortable and emotional moments that neither man wanted to endure.

"I see that you finally decide to listen to him," Mozzie said with clear satisfaction, momentarily distracted from his doctor-finding quest.

"He has a good idea every now and then," Neal allowed with a sideways tilt of his head and a quirk of his lips.

"He has them more often than that, you just don't listen to most of them," Mozzie half-lectured.

"Well, I'm listening now," Neal said with sudden and unexpectedly deep meaning, putting them in the very same uncomfortable position that they wanted to steer clear of. The mushy, sensitive stuff was not for Mozzie, or Neal, for that matter, and Mozzie wished that Neal hadn't placed them in such dangerous waters. Perhaps Neal just felt that he needed Mozzie to know that he truly cared about and listened to what he said, without the sarcasm and eye rolling.

Whatever the reason, an uncomfortable silence befell them until Neal shifted and looked about the busy room they occupied. "When do you think the doctor will be able to see me?"

"What happened to you being so tired you couldn't even keep your eyes open?" Mozzie asked, wondering why Neal was suddenly so, well, _Neal-like_ again. Upon closer inspection, Mozzie could discern that his color was at least better and he didn't seem to be keeping his eyes open with considerable effort.

Neal seemed to nearly shrug, then thought better of it. He then gazed down at the blood entering his body via IV, then at the one with the clear liquid. "I guess this stuff's working," he said, though, thinking about it now, Mozzie realized that the nap he'd gotten help just as much.

Mozzie could remember on more than one occasion, while needing to stay awake for long periods of time for some reason or another, that all Neal usually needed was a quick catnap, no more than an hour and usually in strange and uncomfortable looking places, and his brain would be running on all cylinders again.

Being able to quickly revive his energy like that was a useful ability to have in their profession when one always had to be ready to run at a moments notice, and Mozzie had said as much the first time he'd witnessed it. He'd actually nearly forgotten about it until now.

Neal then narrowed his eyes and turned to Mozzie. "You know, you're one to talk, Colonel Custer."

"I take offense to that in more than one way," Mozzie said, jutting his chin outward and his nose upward. "I'm an neither rash enough to get myself and hundreds of my soldiers killed - which, I might add, included many of his relatives - nor am I against the Native American people."

Neal raised his hands in defense against Mozzie's clipped tone. Well, he attempted to, but his right hand was greatly restricted. "I'm sorry if I offended you-"

"-You did, and I said as much," Mozzie interjected.

Neal shot Mozzie a mild glare at his interruption. "Well, you just seem so ready to charge in there and take all of the doctors on single-handedly. Just make sure you know what you're up against," Neal advised with feigned seriousness.

"Since when is it you giving me advice and not the other way around?" Mozzie wondered aloud.

Instead of answering the mostly rhetorical question, Neal, not quite meeting Mozzie's gaze anymore, changed the subject to something much more somber and pressing. "What are we going to do if they start asking questions - about what happened out there and how I got shot?"

Being the intuitive man that he was, Mozzie heard the question Neal was afraid to ask - _what do we say about the man I killed?_

It wasn't going to be easy to get Neal to not obsess and brood over killing the man Mozzie had dubbed Ape Arms, not that Mozzie himself would have fared much better. But for all of the stealing, forging and conning that he'd done with absolutely no remorse, the kid sure as heck could feel buckets full of guilt over other, more heinous crimes he had, mostly unintentionally, committed.

Neal had once accidentally gotten someone fired after a con went a tad askew - a man with a wife and three kids to support, Neal had informed him of more than once. Him and Mozzie then had to spend two weeks stalking the man, and after some masterful string-pulling on Mozzie's part, they made sure that he'd gotten an even better job than the one Neal'd gotten him fired from - private security for the mayor that came with great benefits and plenty of vacation time.

The man ended up better off than he'd been before he'd gotten fired, not that that made Neal feel much better about nearly ruining the gullible guard's career in security enforcement. It had definitely helped, but he still brooded much more than necessary.

Mozzie wouldn't have felt as bad as Neal did if he had been in the other man's shoes since it was the guys own fault for letting Neal into the closed office he was guarding - Neal had come up with a brilliant con to gain access, but that wasn't the point - but that was just how Neal was. He just cared too much for his own good.

Mozzie sometimes wondered if Neal had what it took to go straight, to settle down with a nice, honest woman - that was _not_ Kate - and get a monotone, nine-to-five job and hollow promises of a 401k. The thought was always dismissed with prejudice just as soon as it popped into his intellectual mind, but he still couldn't help but wonder if Neal would be happier living a normal Mr. Rodgers lifestyle, and perhaps even become a father someday. Uncle Mozzie did roll off of the tongue very nicely.

Mozzie mentally shook himself from his thoughts of a factitious world as he realized Neal was still waiting for an answer. "We'll tell them the truth, for the most part. We were wandering about the jungle and attacked by trigger-happy rebels, but no one needs to know why we were out there in the first place or what really happened to our attackers," Mozzie said decisively. No one was close enough to hear their conversation, so Mozzie felt relatively comfortable to talk about such delicate topics.

"You don't think it'll raise too many flags?" Neal asked with reasonable skepticism.

"If it does, we'll just give them the slip," Mozzie said with a nonchalant tone and a shrug of his shoulders, already knowing that security severally lacked in this place since it was second nature for him to scope out any place that he entered at this point.

That seemed to settle Neal's worries, at least for a minute. "Wait, what about - what was his name? Chuck?" he asked, concerned again.

"His name was Chase, though I understand why your memory would be a bit scrambled after what happened," Mozzie said with what had to have been the patience of a saint after waiting this long. They were both getting impatient at this point and it wouldn't be wise to take their frustrations out on each other.

"Have you seen him?" Neal continued to prod.

"Not for a while, though I presume he's still skulking about the building. He seems like the type to stick around to see things through."

"Do you think he'll tell the police what happened?" Neal asked, even more worried now. The heart-rate monitor that Neal was hooked up to increased the beeping noise that it'd been ceaselessly making as the younger man got more agitated.

"He took out two men as well, so I doubt he's willing to share any incriminating information. I'll have to catch up with him to get our stories straight," Mozzie said, trying to ease Neal's worries. It wouldn't do well to let Neal get worked up in his weakened state, even if he was starting to feel well enough to argue again.

It seemed to work and Neal settled back down for the moment. That lasted all of five minutes. Predictably, Neal started picking at the hospital gown he was wearing, scowling at it distastefully, almost as if it had personally insulted his fashion taste just by being on him.

The kid then opened his mouth to speak, most likely to complain about his current and admittedly appalling attire, but before he had the chance to utter a single syllable, a man in light blue scrubs, the first person that actually seemed interested in talking to them, approached the pair.

The man was clearly a local, his tan skin, dark hair and facial features a dead giveaway. Even though Mozzie was not as adept as speaking Burmese in comparison to English, he was prepared to speak in the man's native language if need be. Mozzie opened his mouth to do just that when the black-haired man, seemingly knowing that Mozzie was ready to start in on him, raised a hand to forestall his words.

"My name is Dr. Lin, the resident orthopedist here. You two are the Americans that got lost, correct?" the doctor asked, surprising Mozzie by speaking in English, and with the confidence and proper enunciation of a long-time speaker of the language to boot.

The doctor then referred to the papers on the clipboard in his hands. "A Mr. Nick Halden and Dante Haversham?" Before arriving at the hospital, Neal and Mozzie had unanimously decided that those two aliases would be the safest to use - much safer than their real names, or at least the ones that were as real as it got for people like them.

Taking charge, Mozzie stood up and took a step closer to the doctor, who was at the end of the bed Neal was in. "We didn't got lost," Mozzie automatically protested, but a light kick from Neal reminded him that that was the story they were going with. "Okay, I guess we might have gotten a little lost," he admitted reluctantly.

The doctor flipped through the papers on the clipboard he had in his hands until he found the information he was looking for. "It says here you were in the jungle for just under a week," he said, turning it into a question when he gazed at them expectantly.

"It's a big jungle," Mozzie offered with a helpless shrug, playing the part of the dumb American in a foreign land.

"Right..." the doctor drawled, sounding a bit too suspicious for Mozzie's liking. What was all of the intrusive questions? Was this guy an interrogator or something?

"What about my friend's arm? Can you help him?" Mozzie asked a bit tersely, trying to get this man's mind on the right track before he started asking more invasive questions, like how Neal looked like he'd gone five rounds with a jungle cat, and lost. The fall off of the cliff was easy enough to explain, but the rebels...

"I've studied your X-rays and it's clear to me that you need surgery to set the bones properly," Dr. Lin stated, a bit brusquely but not unkindly.

"Surgery?" Neal asked with a note of apprehension, perhaps about having to stay at the hospital - and in the country - longer or maybe just fearful of going under the knife.

"Although the bones are already beginning to heal, they are not quite aligned properly. I am optimistic that I will be able to go in and re-break the bones-"

"Re-break them? Is that really necessary?" Neal piped up again, unconsciously pulling his arm closer to himself to keep it away from the bone-breaking doctor and his seemingly sinister plans.

"It's standard procedure for a bone that has started to heal improperly. And do not worry, you will be under the whole time and won't feel a thing," Dr. Lin assured with a smile.

Neal looked up to Mozzie for guidance, his concern shining through the brave front that he was putting up.

Mozzie took the two steps it took to reach Neal's side again and patted him on the shoulder, careful not to hurt him while trying his best to reassure the kid and not make things completely and totally awkward for the both of them. It seemed to work as Neal relaxed slightly under Mozzie hand where it still sat, almost protectively, on the kid's shoulder.

"Don't worry, mon frère. I'm sure the doc knows what he's doing, right?" Mozzie said as he stared the doctor down, a slight sharp edge to his words to make sure the doctor knew that if anything happened to Neal that he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

Dr. Lin nodded, locking eyes with Mozzie before turning back to his patient. "As with all procedures, there are risks, but I've done this procedure dozens of times and I don't expect any complications," he said, not at all cowed by Mozzie's threatening undertone, which both annoyed Mozzie and impressed him.

After earning another reassuring pat on the shoulder from Mozzie, Neal turned to Dr. Lin and nodded decisively. "Okay, do it," he said with renewed determination and courage.

Dr. Lin nodded with a smile. "I'll call the OR, tell them you're coming. A nurse will be down shortly to take you to pre-op," he said, then took his leave.

It didn't take long for a nurse pushing a gurney through the crowd of patients and medical personnel to show up to take Neal away.

It didn't surprise Mozzie in the least that the attractive young woman blushed like a schoolgirl when Neal flashed his pearly whites at her, nearly blinding the poor woman. Mozzie just rolled his eyes fondly as Neal shamelessly flirted with her without even speaking a word of Burmese.

Transferring Neal from the cot to the gurney was a difficult and painful journey of three lengthy feet, but they got it done, with some help from Mozzie. Once situated on the gurney, Mozzie came up to his friend to bid him a temporary farewell.

"Try not to cause anymore trouble while I'm not there to pull you out of the fire, okay?" Mozzie said in lieu of a sentimental goodbye.

"I'll try my best, but I make no promises," Neal said with slightly pained smile.

"I'll be there when you come back out," Mozzie promised as he patted Neal's arm, still feeling awkward about the sign of affection. But it did seem to calm Neal, so Mozzie forced himself to give him comfort and ignore his own feelings.

"See you on the other side," Neal said with a salute and a smile that nearly hid his wince from the movement. Then Neal was rolled away, leaving Mozzie to wait with his last remaining patience.

 **Thanks for reading!**


	9. All's Well That Ends Well

**Alright, this is the last chapter! I have to say, I think I might have enjoyed writing this story the most out of all of mine. I couldn't have done it without you guys' support and encouragement! Thank you so much!**

An hour and twelve minutes since Neal had been whisked off to surgery, Chase showed up again. The previously absent man sat down next to Mozzie in the corner of the busy waiting room, but didn't utter a word for a few ticks of the clock. "How's your friend?" he eventually ventured, his voice just as surprisingly kind than it had been before.

"In surgery," Mozzie replied tersely, his nerves making him poor company.

Chase nodded, then leaned back, apparently ready to wait for Mozzie to strike up a conversation or for news on Neal, whichever came first.

Mozzie knew that Chase deserved some form of gratitude for helping them so much, so he took a deep breath and prepared himself to speak nicely.

"Thank you - for, you know, bringing us here. Not a lot of people would do that, especially without gaining something in return," Mozzie said with the least amount of awkwardness he could manage when it came to voicing his gratefulness, his hands moving as he spoke.

Chase nodded. "I'm just glad I could help," he said, then another silence fell over them, one that Mozzie knew he had to break again, even though he'd much rather sit quietly as they waited.

"So, about what happened out there..." Mozzie started, not exactly sure how to ask this man to lie for them. While he may not have actually seen Neal shoot Ape Arms, having heard a gunshot in the distance and then Mozzie and Neal suddenly being free from their captors left little room for the imagination.

"Don't worry, I didn't say anything about what might have happened to the rebels. As far as anyone's concerned, they're all still alive," Chase reassured him quietly, a slight smile on his war-worn face. Mozzie was actually surprised when he _didn't_ wink conspiratorially.

Mozzie nodded thoughtfully, both happy and surprised that he didn't need to convince - or possibly bribe even though that hadn't worked before - Chase to lie. "Good, that's good," he said, then they waited for news about Neal in surprisingly compatible quietude.

The long-waited news came to them four hours later in the form of a large male nurse that was brusque and to the point - just how Mozzie liked it. The hulking fellow informed the unlikely pair that Neal was out of surgery, all went well and they were able to see him.

It was such an immense relief that Neal was alright Mozzie didn't even ask to be taken to Neal, Chase having to voice it for him. Mozzie wasn't surprised that Chase tagged along after getting Mozzie moving since he'd already pegged him as a man to see things through. Neal would appreciate that.

Neal was still asleep when they entered, but the burly nurse that escorted them said that he had woken up twice already while in recovery - no doubt charming everyone in sight all the while - and should be coming around again soon.

Once the aid left, Mozzie took a good look at Neal, assessing his condition from his wavy-haired head to his journey-worn, blanket-covered toes.

Mozzie wasn't sure if Neal looked worse or better than he'd had before surgery. He appeared to be more pale and gaunt than before, but he also seemed more relaxed and at ease, which was a nice change from the stress and pain Mozzie had witnessed previously.

Neal also had a lot more wires and tubes hooked up to him than he'd had in the emergency room, like he was some sort of robot in dire need of a charge and all of these things were powering him back up.

That thought made Mozzie worry about everything that they could have done to Neal while he was deep in the bowels of the hospital, drugged and unable to resist their mad scientist-like plans. But he told himself that even if they had the technology to turn Neal into a badass cyborg - and that technology was out there, Mozzie knew - to do their bidding, they didn't have the time to do so.

Even so, Mozzie would bust him out and they'd use Neal's new abilities to help in their future endeavors. If Neal became part robot, Mozzie would be there to deal with the aftermath and make sure Neal reaped the benefits of his new powers.

The arm that had been operated on was in a sling once again, to support both the mending shoulder and re-broken arm. The gunshot wound, more of a flesh wound than anything, was wrapped up with a new, clean bandage.

With the long list of injuries staring Mozzie in the face, he had to reassure himself that Neal was going to be just fine, with a considerable amount of time and truckloads of patience, but they'd get there.

Once Mozzie finished cataloging Neal's injuries, he realized that he might actually have to start a conversation with Chase to pass the time until Neal decided that it was time to come back to the land of the living. Fortunately, it didn't take that long for Neal to come to.

Bleary blue eyes peeked at the pair of visitors from under dark lashes for a moment before sliding close again. "Neal?" Mozzie questioned as he hopped up from the seat had reluctantly perched himself on, thankful that he didn't have to try to start an awkward conversation with Chase.

Dark eyelashes fluttered and soon Neal's crystal eyes opened to scan the room and its occupants. Chase had come up to stand on the other side of the bed, back farther than Mozzie, who might have been a bit too close.

Neal squinted up at Mozzie, his eyes becoming clearer by the second. He tilted his head as he seemed to consider something. "Am I dying?" he asked so calmly that it took a moment for the words to sink in, startling Mozzie.

"What? No!" he said, appalled by the mere thought.

"Then why do you look so worried?" Neal questioned as he examined Mozzie's face intently.

"I'm not worried!" Mozzie denied, shifting uncomfortably.

"Methinks thou dost protest too much," Chase muttered quietly enough for only Mozzie to hear, apparently a fan of Shakespeare and his often depressing tales.

Mozzie shot Chase a glare over his thick-rimmed glasses, then brought his attention back to Neal. "You know I don't like hospitals," Mozzie said, admitting to his worries as much as he could.

Neal nodded knowingly, far too smart and able to read people for his own good. It was great for a con, but wasn't all that much fun when Neal could see right through him, even while doped up on the good stuff.

"So, am I going to be able to get out of here soon? I don't think we should stick around much longer than we already have," Neal said as he pulled himself into a sitting position, Mozzie situating the pillows behind him better as he did. Apparently, he was already ready to bolt. Mozzie understood his position in not wanting to stick around, but he also didn't think he was ready to leave quite yet.

Before Mozzie could say that Neal needed time to rest and not to worry, Chase spoke up. "I agree with the kid," Chase said, causing Neal to scowl at him for calling him a _kid_. He never liked that, but Mozzie always found his annoyance amusing.

Chase took a step closer to the bed, his expression turning sober. "The Myanmar people have a saying - 'even if the truth is buried for centuries, it will eventually come out and thrive.' It would be wise if you two left this country soon and never came back," Chase recommended with a seriousness that made Mozzie more nervous. They would be in hot water if anyone started asking the wrong - or perhaps _right_ \- questions.

Neal seemed to become slightly anxious as well, which was not something that Mozzie wanted. "They also say 'beware of a man's shadow and a bees sting'," Mozzie added to ease the tension, always ready with a wise quote.

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Neal asked, his expression more confused than Mozzie had seen it in a while. It was kind of funny to see him so stumped.

"It is not for me to tell, but you to find out," Mozzie answered sagely, bowing his head slightly.

"In other words, you have no idea," Neal deduced with a sideways smirk.

"That's not true," Mozzie said, insulted by what Neal assumed.

"Then what does it mean?" Neal challenged, eager to catch Mozzie in his fib.

"It's important for you to find out yourself," Mozzie reiterated.

"So I can tell you?" Neal guessed with a sideways, knowing smirk that was a bit too cocky. That kid really did have him pegged.

"No comment," Mozzie muttered, then turned to Chase, who'd been watching them like one would a tennis match, clearly entertained by their witty banter.

After shaking his head amusingly, Chase patted Neal lightly on his uninjured forearm, which was less awkward than Mozzie expected it to be. "I should go. There are some people that need my attention and I shouldn't keep them waiting any longer," Chase said with a wry smile. Mozzie assumed that he was speaking of the others that were at the settlement. He had a bit of a mess to clean up because of the rebels.

"Thank you, Chase," Neal said sincerely.

Chase just nodded to them and took his leave. Mozzie had to admit, he wasn't that bad of a guy.

"So when are we busting out of here, then?" Neal asked once the door closed behind Chase. The kid really never could hold still for long.

Mozzie had a plan forming already - something to with a door jamb, a minor diversion, an appropriately-sized melon and some pillows. Maybe a recording device of their voices playing as well... Neal would probably call it crazy, but Mozzie just wouldn't share all of the details with him just yet.

"Do not worry about those silly little details, my friend. Just focus on healing. I did bring something that might help you along in your recovery..." Mozzie said, then picked up the backpack he'd brought with him - the same one they had carried through the jungle. He pulled out a bottle of sparkling grape juice and brandished it with an extra bit of flare towards Neal, who smiled brightly and laughed, throwing his head back slightly in the way he did when he found something especially amusing.

"Wow, where did you even get that?" he asked as he sat up more, eyes shining with that endless curiosity he had.

"A master may teach his student, but does not reveal every trick up his sleves," Mozzie said wisely. Truth was, Mozzie had traded the champagne he'd brought to celebrate stealing the rubies that they never did end up getting with a nurse for it. If Neal couldn't drink alcohol for a while because of the drugs he would have to take for a while, then Mozzie didn't really see a point of keeping it around.

"Fair enough," Neal allowed, still smiling that joyous smile.

Mozzie grabbed two paper cups from a nearby cupboard and poured some sparkling grape juice into each one. "It may not be champagne, but it's the quality of the company that you drink with that truly matters," he said sincerely as he handed a cup to Neal.

"I might just quote you on that someday," Neal said with a dazzling smile, then lifted his cup to Mozzie's.

Mozzie held his cup in the air. "To the next crazy adventure, may there always be another," he toasted, touching his cup to Neal's.

"Here, here," Neal said, then both men took a sip, enjoying the flavor of the carbonated grape juice as if it was the finest of wines.

All adventures have to come to an end eventually, even the crazy and unpredictable ones that Neal and Mozzie always seemed to be a part of. As long as everything turned out okay, then Mozzie was alright with not ending up with the treasure they had set out to appropriate. He mourned for their loss briefly, but it was nothing compared to how he would have felt if something truly terrible had happened to Neal. There'd always be another adventure to gain more priceless treasures anyway.

They'd bust out of the hospital and head back to America soon, but for now, they were content on just drinking a non-alcoholic beverage and enjoying each other's company, until the next crazy adventure.

 **The End**

 **The two quotes that Chase and Mozzie said are from 'What Happens In Burma' (season 2, episode 12.) Neal had to have heard them from somewhere, right?**

 **Thanks for sticking with me through this story! Your reviews made me smile! :-)**


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